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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406382">Good Influence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds'>AppleSeeds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Getting Together, Hypnotism, Hypnotist Crowley, M/M, Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens), Mentioned Newton Pulsifer, Mentioned Sandalphon, Miscommunication, Oblivious Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Overthinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:49:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a horrible week at work, Aziraphale is encouraged by his friend and colleague Anathema to attend a hypnotism show to take his mind off it, after all, what could be more distracting than watching a performance by the stunningly handsome hypnotist Crowley?</p><p>After finding out a little bit about Aziraphale's work situation, Crowley is eager to give him a pleasant experience and for him to leave the show feeling better about himself, but he later grapples with the ethics of what he's done, and whether he might have inadvertently influenced Aziraphale more than he intended.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Human AUs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I got the radio version of Good Omens for Christmas, when I was listening to it and Crowley hypnotised Mary Hodges my brain immediately screamed I NEED TO WRITE A HYPNOTIST AU!! So although I have about 7 WIPs at the moment, this happened... Expect Invisible Touch and Angelic Whispers vibes in this fic.... &lt;3</p><p>Thank you to KissMyAsthma, Wizzy Gold, Oniria_Creation and rapunzel713 for their help with this! &lt;3</p><p>Note that although we don't see Gabriel/Sandalphon in this fic they are both mentioned and are complete arseholes, causing Aziraphale a lot of anxiety.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Look at this one!”</p><p>“I’ve told you, Anathema, I’m not interested. I intend to spend this evening curled up under a blanket with a good book, preferably one I don’t mind ruining when I inevitably start crying all over the pages.”</p><p>Aziraphale was only half-joking, he was painfully aware that the scenario he was describing might actually come to pass. Anathema, his colleague and dear friend, pouted and looked at him sympathetically. He knew she meant well, trying to get him out of the flat rather than letting him wallow in self-pity, going over and over his latest meeting with his manager, Gabriel, thinking of all the things he should have said, <em>would</em> have said if he could just be a little more assertive. This week at work had been incredibly stressful, and Aziraphale was looking forward to a weekend in the peaceful sanctuary of his flat. Unfortunately, he did tend to find that when he spent all weekend inside with only himself for company, Monday seemed to roll around again before he knew it.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve by saying things like that, you know it’s only going to make me more determined, right?” Anathema countered. “Oh, look at this one!”</p><p>From her position perched on the edge of Aziraphale’s desk, Anathema shoved her phone back in his face. She had been scrolling through photos of the event to which she wanted Aziraphale to accompany her tonight, a hypnotism show at a local club. It was something Aziraphale was quite interested in, overlapping as it did with his fascination with the performance of magic, but he really didn’t feel up to enduring a loud, crowded club full of inebriated people after the week he’d had. Anathema knew this, but had refused to give up. Her current persuasion tactic centred on how ‘hot’ the hypnotist was, and to that end she had been showing Aziraphale pictures for a couple of minutes now.</p><p>“Yes, very nice, Anathema,” Aziraphale grumbled, intending to cast the picture nothing but a fleeting glance but finding his gaze lingering, “but I really don’t feel up to going out.”</p><p>“But it’ll be such a good distraction! Come on, Aziraphale, it’s <em>Friday night</em>! Please?”</p><p>The hypnotist was undeniably attractive, but Anathema’s youthful exuberance failed to account for the fact that Aziraphale had grown beyond the point where watching an attractive man making people do silly things could take his mind off his problems. Still, she wiggled her phone closer to his face, and Aziraphale took another look. The man, <em>Crowley</em>, apparently, was incredibly slim, and wearing tight black trousers and a long-sleeved, low-cut black V-neck, the edge of the lettering of a tattoo just visible beneath his clavicle, disappearing under the fabric. He had long hair, the precise colour hard to discern from the way the bright stage lights struck it, but it appeared to be copper-red, falling in soft waves but cut shorter at the front, flopping attractively over his forehead.</p><p>“I can see you <em>looking</em>. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”</p><p>There seemed little point in denying it. “He’s a very attractive man, Anathema. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show.”</p><p>Anathema rolled her eyes and went quiet for a moment, her finger sweeping up as she scrolled through her phone until she stopped suddenly and slammed her palm down on Aziraphale’s desk. “Look at <em>this</em> one!”</p><p>It was a close-up shot of Crowley’s face, highlighting his unequivocally handsome features. He was looking straight into the camera, and Aziraphale’s stomach flip-flopped at the illusion of Crowley looking directly into his eyes. He had <em>beautiful</em> eyes, warm honey brown and sparkling with mischief, accentuated with black eyeliner... and Aziraphale couldn’t deny that he was actually tempted.</p><p>“Seriously, crying over a book and potentially ruining it, or ogling a super hot guy and having fun with a friend who cares about you and doesn’t want to spend her Friday night worrying about you being all alone and upset?” Anathema held her palms out on either side of herself and mimed weighing up the options, pushing the hand that was supposed to represent the latter option closer to Aziraphale, imploring him with her eyes.</p><p>“Yes, all right, fine!” Aziraphale relented with one last look into Crowley’s eyes, and Anathema squealed with excitement. She hopped off his desk and squeezed his shoulders.</p><p>“This is going to be so much fun!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You’re <em>thinking</em> again, stop it,” Anathema grumbled, setting another large glass of wine down in front of Aziraphale, who was sitting at a small round table not too far from the stage, but a little way off to the side. It would be his third glass, while Anathema had been drinking at least twice as fast, and had no problem speaking exactly what was on her mind. Not that that was much different from usual, just a little louder, perhaps. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re thinking about fucking Gabriel!” Oh yes, and a little swearier.</p><p>“All right, I won’t tell you.”</p><p>“Aziraphale, how many times do I have to tell you? He’s an asshole, he’s always going to <em>be</em> an asshole, don’t give away your energy to him, he doesn’t deserve it! You need to protect yourself, your aura’s all...” Anathema scrunched her face up and waved her arms around a bit in front of him. “Fucked up,” she settled on.</p><p>“Ah, well, isn’t that lovely?” Aziraphale took a small sip of his wine. He would make this glass last the rest of the night if he could, the last thing he needed was to wake up with a hangover tomorrow.</p><p>“You know I just want you to be happy.”</p><p>“Yes, I do, dear girl, thank you. I very much want that too. Wouldn’t it be lovely not to be constantly criticised for trying to do the right thing?”</p><p>“I told you: <em>asshole</em>!” she screamed into his ear, and Aziraphale flinched. “You’re too good for all of them. Don’t know how someone like you stands it. You’re so sweet and kind, you should be doing something you care about, something that actually makes a difference. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met!”</p><p>“My dear, I do believe the alcohol has made you soft.” Anathema shrugged and returned her attention to her drink. Aziraphale thought a little on what she’d said. He didn’t agree with her, Aziraphale actually felt that he <em>did</em> make a difference, it was just a shame that those above him didn’t approve of his way of doing things. Aziraphale was distracted from his thoughts when a young man dressed all in black, wearing striking eye make-up and with his black hair styled into what appeared to be the shape of bunny ears, shuffled onto the stage and approached the microphone.</p><p>“Good evening, my name is Eric, welcome to The Sin Bin! Please take your seats, Crowley will be out in a moment to amaze you all with his incredible powers of hypnosis! You might want to cancel your credit cards now!” A few people laughed, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure he entirely understood the joke. “I’m sure some of you are sceptical, but believe me, you won’t be by the time Crowley is finished with you tonight!”</p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t sceptical about hypnosis. He’d never been to a live show before, but he’d seen bits and pieces, generally as part of magic shows on television, and it seemed unlikely that that many people could play along so perfectly if it weren’t a real phenomenon. He doubted that <em>everyone</em> was capable of being hypnotised, one probably had to be at least a little suggestible, although Aziraphale suspected that he himself was <em>indeed</em> rather suggestible. He certainly made it far too easy for Gabriel and other members of senior management to get into his head.</p><p>“Please give a very warm welcome to Crowley!” Eric beamed, starting the applause and disappearing off to the side of the small stage, taking the microphone stand with him. Anathema cheered and whooped enthusiastically while Aziraphale clapped politely, the crowd’s applause increasing in volume when Crowley stepped out onto the stage.</p><p>Aziraphale leaned forward in his seat and unconsciously licked his lips. The photos hadn’t really done Crowley justice, and as Aziraphale watched him move, his hips swaying as he sauntered out onto the stage, he realised that this was because a photograph could never capture his energy, the way he strode out onto the stage like he owned it, shoulders back, head held high, a blinding grin on his face as he swept his hair back away from his face and began speaking into his microphone headset.</p><p>“Good evening everyone, welcome, thank you so much for coming to the show tonight!” Crowley was trying to talk over the applause, but his words were barely audible as the crowd kept cheering. He laughed and touched one hand to his heart, raising his palm up in a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, I can tell already you’re going to be a lovely audience, not that that’s going to stop me messing with you.” The applause died down and the audience laughed. “It’s Friday night, the weekend is finally here, ready to have some fun?”</p><p>The audience cheered wildly, none more enthusiastically than Anathema. Oh well, at least she was having fun, and she’d been right... looking up at Crowley on the stage with that devilish smile on his face was certainly an effective distraction.</p><p>“Well, let’s get started then shall we... I’m obviously going to need a volunteer.”</p><p>Aziraphale recoiled and clapped his hand over his ear as Anathema immediately whistled extremely loudly and leapt out of her seat. Aziraphale should have known she would want to volunteer; she had so much confidence, and this was exactly the sort of thing she would want to try out for herself. Still wincing from the shock of the loud noise in his ear, Aziraphale turned to look at her, and found that Anathema was actually exuberantly pointing both fingers at <em>him</em>.</p><p>"Now, <em>really</em>, dear girl!" Aziraphale admonished, reaching out and tugging on Anathema’s sleeve, discreetly trying to encourage her to sit back down. “I’m so sorry about this,” Aziraphale said a little louder, daring to glance at Crowley, who was grinning, his eyebrows climbing high up his forehead. “I’m sorry,” Aziraphale repeated when their eyes locked.</p><p>Crowley winked and crooked his finger, beckoning him onto the stage. Aziraphale’s heart leapt into his throat and he shook his head. “No, no, that’s all right, she’s just had rather a lot to drink, I’m afraid, although I’m sure she would enjoy the experience, wouldn’t you, my dear? Why don’t you go?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Anathema and Crowley. Crowley smiled slyly and shook his head, pointing a finger at Aziraphale.</p><p>“<em>You</em>.”</p><p>Crowley’s smile morphed into something much more gentle and sweet, and he tilted his head, now using both hands to beckon Aziraphale to join him. Aziraphale’s heart fluttered in his chest, and he distracted himself from the sensation by glaring at Anathema.</p><p>“I won’t ever forgive you, you know.”</p><p>Anathema cackled. “Oh, I seriously think you will.” She grinned like a Cheshire cat as Aziraphale harrumphed and rose from his seat, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself. It would be fine. He had come here to distract himself by ogling an extremely attractive man, and now he would be able to do that up close. All the better. As long as he didn’t do anything to embarrass himself.</p><p>When he made it up onto the small stage, Crowley shook his hand, and sparks of electricity seemed to travel up Aziraphale’s arm and into his chest, shocking his heart into an even faster rhythm. Crowley put his other arm around Aziraphale, encouraging him towards the centre of the stage, Aziraphale’s skin tingling where Crowley touched him. Maybe he <em>would</em> forgive Anathema after all, and now that he was up here, he was determined to try to make the most of the experience.</p><p>Aziraphale allowed himself a quick glance down to Crowley’s chest. He’d been curious about his tattoo ever since Anathema had showed him the photos on her phone. It consisted of two lines of elaborate lettering, only a few words visible, but just from those, Aziraphale was able to deduce that it was a quote from Paradise Lost: ‘better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven’. Now he was even more intrigued.</p><p>Hoping he hadn’t let his gaze linger on Crowley’s chest for an inappropriate amount of time, Aziraphale glanced up and looked into Crowley’s eyes.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>“Hey, nice to meet you. What’s your name?”</p><p>"You can’t read my mind?" Aziraphale joked, ignoring the ‘ooooh’ this elicited from the audience, preferring to focus on the way Crowley laughed, his whole face lighting up as he did so.</p><p>"No, don't worry, I can't read your mind,” he chuckled. “What I do is more... <em>writing</em> than reading."</p><p>"How comforting,” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley beamed at him.</p><p>"I think you’re going to be fun to work with,” he grinned, and Aziraphale preened at the compliment.</p><p>“My name is Aziraphale.”</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aziraphale. Are you a sceptic?"</p><p>“No, not at all.”</p><p>“You seemed a little reluctant to come up here?”</p><p>“Oh... well, I...”</p><p>“It’s all right; I’ll take good care of you.” Crowley gently placed his hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back, bringing back that tingling sensation, and for a moment Aziraphale actually wished he was wearing fewer layers, so perhaps he would be able to feel the warmth of Crowley’s touch through the fabric. “Hypnosis is a voluntary state, nothing will happen unless you want it to. Are you happy to do this?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m fine.”</p><p>“Perfect, all right, look at me,” Crowley murmured softly, his hand now gently squeezing Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale didn’t so much feel like he had butterflies in his stomach as huge great furry moths that kept banging into a light bulb. He locked eyes with Crowley, smiling to himself as he enjoyed having this excuse to freely inspect them, the warm brown tones of his irises, flecked with gold, that became smaller as Crowley’s pupils dilated. Now <em>that</em> was impressive, to be able to control his eyes like that.</p><p>Crowley asked Aziraphale to close his eyes and talked him through a series of instructions, encouraging him to relax, to focus on his voice, and to breathe deeply. Aziraphale was vaguely aware of footsteps on the stage as someone joined them, and the sound of something being put down on the floor next to him.</p><p>"All right, Aziraphale, there's a chair behind you, just sit down for me.” Aziraphale could feel both of Crowley’s hands on his shoulders as he guided him into the chair. “That's it, perfect, now you can sleep, just slowly drift down... and rest... and sleep... you can just relax here for a moment dreaming of whatever you like best, I'll be right back, you don't need to pay attention to anything for now until I touch you on the shoulder again. That’s it, Aziraphale... just sleep for me..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Masking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley hypnotises Aziraphale.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just to say, in this fic they both have some problems with things like self-doubt, lack of confidence and anxiety, which is a big focus of the story, and there will be a few miscommunications between them as a result! There will definitely be a happy ending though! :-)</p>
<p>Note this chapter contains hypnotism/suggestion/influence and Crowley questioning the appropriateness of something he does while Aziraphale is hypnotised</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley smiled as Aziraphale sunk down in the chair, his head flopping onto his shoulder. Once Crowley was convinced that Aziraphale wasn’t about to slide off the chair and fall onto the floor, he turned back to the audience and approached the front of the stage, off to the side where Aziraphale had been sitting.</p>
<p>“What's <em>your</em> name?" Crowley asked the young woman who had been practically bouncing up and down excitedly earlier, wanting to get some more information before he decided exactly what he wanted to do with Aziraphale.</p>
<p>Just before his show had started, Crowley had been, as he always did, discreetly moving around the edges of the crowd, trying to identify people he might want to get up on stage with him. Aziraphale had stood out to him immediately. He was unquestionably extremely attractive, a fact that Crowley had become entirely unable to ignore once Aziraphale was standing right in front of him, smiling at him softly, looking directly at him with those stunning blue-grey eyes that twinkled under the stage lights, but that wasn’t what had drawn Crowley to him.</p>
<p>What had first made Crowley want to choose Aziraphale to join him on stage was how stressed he’d seemed compared to everyone else in the club, staring distractedly into his wine glass, brow furrowed and shoulders tense, leaving Crowley wanting to take his mind off whatever was troubling him. As he’d walked behind the two of them at their table while skirting around the edge of the room, Crowley had also overheard the young woman describe Aziraphale as the nicest person she’d ever met, which had made Crowley even more eager to give him a pleasant experience tonight. He’d been thrilled when she had volunteered him to come up on stage.</p>
<p>"Anathema,” the woman responded to Crowley’s question.</p>
<p>"How do you know Aziraphale?"</p>
<p>"We're friends. We work together."</p>
<p>"What do you do for a living?”</p>
<p>“We work for a publishing company.”</p>
<p>"And how is it?"</p>
<p>Anathema grimaced, and Crowley reflected her expression for the benefit of the rest of the audience. "That good, eh?"</p>
<p>"It's pretty stressful." She tipped her chin up towards Aziraphale. "That's probably the best sleep he's had all week."</p>
<p>Crowley twisted around to look at Aziraphale. He looked so peaceful now compared to when he had been sat at the table, his handsome features now softened, and Crowley smiled, experiencing a rush of attraction.</p>
<p>"What's your boss like?" Crowley ventured, turning back to Anathema.</p>
<p>"An asshole."</p>
<p>"Perfect, what's your boss’s name?"</p>
<p>"Gabriel."</p>
<p>“As in...?” Crowley pointed upwards and Anathema nodded. “So you have <em>two</em> colleagues named after angels.” Crowley had recognised Aziraphale’s name as belonging to the Guardian of the Eastern Gate from the Garden of Eden.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Aziraphale thinks that’s the only reason the pretentious son of a bitch hired him.” Crowley narrowed his eyes; it sounded like Aziraphale didn’t have much self-confidence. “Only one of them’s an <em>actual</em> angel,” Anathema smiled, pointing towards the stage.</p>
<p>"Ok, well, I can definitely work with that, thanks.” He started back towards Aziraphale and then pivoted back around on the spot. “One more thing... is Aziraphale married? Seeing anyone?"</p>
<p>"No, he's very single. <em>Available</em>." Anathema emphasised and drew the word out, raising her eyebrows, and Crowley chuckled. The audience cheered and someone in the back of the club wolf-whistled. Anathema certainly looked very pleased with herself, leaving Crowley with the impression that she enjoyed playing matchmaker, although that wasn’t why he’d asked, of course. Not really.</p>
<p>"Great, thank you, Anathema."</p>
<p>Crowley smiled gratefully and then turned back to Aziraphale, allowing himself to briefly look him up and down, grinning to himself about Anathema’s response to his final question, even if it had just been a part of his usual routine, a question posed simply to elicit a reaction from the audience. Crowley took a moment to appreciate the fluffiness of Aziraphale’s hair, the curve of his soft, round cheeks, his plump, slightly parted lips... and that <em>outfit</em>, Crowley wasn’t quite sure when he’d last seen someone wearing a waistcoat with an actual <em>pocket watch</em>, not to mention the bowtie. Maybe never. Crowley reached out and touched Aziraphale on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"All right, Aziraphale, just focus on my voice. When I squeeze your shoulder, you’re going to stand up for me, still sleeping, still floating peacefully. That’s it.” Crowley kept his hand resting gently on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he stood up, and then Eric appeared again to move the chair to the back of the stage. “Before we begin, I just want you to know that you're going to have a <em>wonderful</em> time this evening, and when you leave here tonight you’re going to think I was absolutely brilliant and you’ll be <em>extremely</em> impressed by my hypnotism skills,” Crowley joked, again for the benefit of the audience, who indeed laughed along with him. Crowley lowered his voice slightly. “You're going to forget all about work until Monday, except to remember how funny it was when Gabriel spilled coffee all the way down his posh shirt...” Crowley grinned, then turned to Anathema, looking for reassurance that Gabriel did indeed wear posh shirts, pleased when she giggled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, “and right when he was on his way to that big important meeting, as well! You had a good laugh about it with your friend Anathema. Right, now, speaking of Gabriel, when I count to three, you’re going to open your eyes, and you’re going to believe that Eric, the man who introduced me earlier, is your boss, Gabriel.” Eric stepped back onto the stage, and Crowley smirked at the look of mild trepidation in his eyes. Poor Eric, he really did put up with a lot. “In fact, you’re going to believe that you’re <em>both</em> the angels you were named after, and Gabriel has been a very <em>bad</em> angel, and God has asked you to smite him.”</p>
<p>“Crowley...” Eric whimpered, putting on a good show for the audience, who were laughing and cheering. Crowley was impressed, as usual Eric was delivering a very convincing performance. “He looks strong.”</p>
<p>“Nyeeeeah, you’ll be fine. Right, Aziraphale... you need a weapon.” Crowley reached into his pocket and withdrew a pen, pushing it against Aziraphale’s hand. “This is your flaming sword, Aziraphale, hold onto it tightly. This is what you’re going to use to smite Gabriel, all right?” Aziraphale clenched his hand, holding onto the pen. “Ok, great. One, two, three.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and blinked, looking around the room, smiling when his focus settled on Crowley. Crowley’s heartbeat quickened, and his eyes drifted down to Aziraphale’s lips for a moment before he forced himself to look back up. Presumably, since Aziraphale wasn’t doing anything, that meant that Eric was hiding behind him, so Crowley released Aziraphale’s shoulder and stepped out of the way.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyes flashed and he raised the pen up into the air, lunging towards Eric, who ran away, doing a few laps of the stage with Aziraphale in pursuit before ultimately grabbing onto Crowley and cowering behind him while the audience laughed and cheered enthusiastically.</p>
<p>“Just let him smite you! Then this will all be over!”</p>
<p>“Easy for you to say! You treat me like I’m expendable!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale circled around and raised the pen one more time, and Eric ducked out from behind Crowley and made a show of scampering across the stage. This continued for a while, and if he was being honest, Aziraphale’s expression of fierce determination was doing things to Crowley that he didn’t find at all objectionable.</p>
<p>“Come on Eric, just yield to the superior force!” Crowley grabbed hold of Eric by the shoulders and held him still in front of him. Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed as he focused on his target. “That’s it, angel, he’s all yours.”</p>
<p>Eric squeezed his eyes closed as Aziraphale approached slowly, raising the pen high up in the air before plunging it into Eric’s chest. Crowley grinned and helped Eric to fall safely onto the stage.</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Aziraphale, you have successfully defeated Gabriel!” Crowley announced, grabbing hold of Aziraphale’s hand and raising it triumphantly in the air, straddling his feet over Eric, who was pretending to lie unconscious on the stage. Aziraphale’s victory was enthusiastically received by the audience. “Anyone else in here whose boss is an arsehole?” Crowley asked, eliciting a loud series of affirmative sounds from the crowd. “Well, that one was for you! Now sleep again for me, Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured, again gently touching Aziraphale’s shoulder and this time the back of his head, feeling for himself how soft those fluffy white blond curls were. Aziraphale’s eyes closed and his chin bobbed down towards his chest. “You’re not going to remember what just happened, but what you <em>will</em> remember is that you’re strong, and you had the courage to stand up to Gabriel tonight. You're going to wake up in a moment feeling better than you have for a long time, and when you go to bed later you'll sleep really well, and when you wake up you'll remember having an incredible dream about that wonderful hypnotist you met called Crowley.”</p>
<p>Again, Crowley was just trying to win the approval of the audience, who were indeed whistling and cheering in response to that, but he felt a small thrill at the thought that Aziraphale would most likely be dreaming about him tonight. Crowley made a show of trying to prise the pen out of Aziraphale’s grasp, but inevitably failed and patted down his own pockets. He released Aziraphale’s shoulder and stepped back to the front of the stage.</p>
<p>“Someone give me a pen, and a napkin.” Crowley bent down to take the requested items from a woman who had approached the stage and was waving them at him. “Thanks.” He crouched down on the stage so that he could lean against the hard surface, scribbled on the napkin, and then folded it into a small, neat square, and then clambered back up, pushing the napkin into the pocket of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. Crowley touched his shoulder again. “In the morning, but not before, you’re going to reach into the pocket of the waistcoat you’re wearing now, and you’re going to find a napkin, which has my telephone number on it.”</p>
<p>Crowley turned and winked at the audience, and they cheered and whistled in response, none louder than Anathema, who was pumping her fists in the air as she whooped and shouted, “Yeah!”</p>
<p>“Just in case you want it,” Crowley murmured, his voice wavering slightly as he deviated from his usual routine. Who was he kidding, he’d deviated from his usual routine the moment he’d written the first zero, for the first time ever during a show writing down his actual phone number on the napkin rather than just pretending to. Normally when he performed this little bit he just wrote a message, something like, ‘thanks for being a great volunteer, I hope you enjoyed the show,’ with his autograph on it, for them to keep as a souvenir. He was pretty sure most people in the audience knew he was joking when he delivered this little performance, the only issue being that this time, he wasn’t actually joking.</p>
<p>This had felt like a good idea for all of about ten seconds, when Crowley had been caught up in the faux-confidence he exuded on stage and the fluttery feeling he was experiencing every time he looked at Aziraphale. Now questioning himself, he needed to try to fix it. “If you don’t want to call me, you’ll throw the napkin away and forget all about it, but if you <em>really</em> like me and you’d like to speak to me again, then you’ll call... but only if you really want to. If you <em>do</em> want to, you can call me anytime you like.”</p>
<p>Audiences always liked it when Crowley flirted with his volunteers, and it was normally just a bit of fun, but Crowley realised that this time he was jittery, anxious that he’d taken things too far. Thankfully, he was pretty good at disguising his feelings; he’d had to deal with worse in the early years when he used to get stage fright, not to mention all the times before that... What had he been thinking? Not that he thought there was any chance Aziraphale would actually call given the conditions he’d just assigned, but <em>still</em>, it had been a stupid thing to do.</p>
<p>Crowley’s stomach knotted a bit as the audience laughed and whistled. He knew he had a habit of sometimes getting swept up in his stage persona. It was incredibly freeing, like stepping into someone else’s body for a while, an escape from the doubts, uncertainties and responsibilities of life, but this time he knew he’d taken it too far. Giving your number to a gorgeous man while he was under the influence of hypnosis... that wasn’t ok, was it? Although he <em>had</em> said Aziraphale should only call if he really wanted to, so it was fine, right? Wasn’t it? Was it?</p>
<p>
  <em>It’s ok, he’ll just throw it away, it doesn’t matter, just forget about it. Even if he does call... I can just apologise profusely for being an idiot. It’s fine.</em>
</p>
<p>Crowley swallowed and tried to put the thought out of his mind; there was no time to agonise over it now. He hadn’t felt this attracted to someone for a very long time, and it had made him do a stupid thing. It wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Maybe he would have the opportunity to properly talk to Aziraphale after the show? He could ask to speak to him, couldn’t he? For one thing, Crowley was keen to find out whether he had actually managed to make Aziraphale feel better. Maybe they could even get to know each other a little bit? Well, that was something he could work out later, for now he had a show to get on with.</p>
<p>Crowley took a deep breath and touched Aziraphale on the shoulder. “All right, Aziraphale, when I count to three this time you’re no longer going to think that you are an angel, and Eric will be back to his normal self. You will be completely wide awake and feeling refreshed. One, two, three.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyes opened and he looked up. His face burst into a beaming smile directed right at Crowley, and Crowley felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Aziraphale looked down at his hand, which was still holding the pen. He examined it quizzically and then held it out to Crowley, who gently pushed Aziraphale’s hand away.</p>
<p>“Nah, it’s all right, you take it. Souvenir.” Crowley could hear how his voice was tainted by his nerves, and hoped no one else would pick up on it. He cleared his throat before continuing. “How do you feel?”</p>
<p>“I feel good.” Aziraphale smiled even more broadly. He really did look much more relaxed than he had when he’d first joined Crowley on stage, and Crowley’s heart swelled.</p>
<p>“Glad to hear it. Do you remember anything?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale cast his eyes around the stage, and then looked himself up and down as if searching for clues, before finally raising his eyebrows and shaking his head.</p>
<p>“I filmed it!” Anathema shouted out from her table amongst the crowd, and Crowley chuckled, his heart racing a bit as he wondered what Aziraphale would think when he saw it, and whether she would show him the entirety of their interaction. Crowley felt a little unsettled at the thought. Would Aziraphale be able to tell how nervous he was? What would <em>he</em> think of Crowley giving him his number while he was hypnotised? Would he see it as a joke?</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, no, it’s only a joke if you don’t give them your actual number. Oh for fuck’s sake, <strong>focus</strong>!</em>
</p>
<p>“Thank you so much, Aziraphale, you’ve been absolutely wonderful.” Crowley shook his hand and reflexively leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, internally flinching, but secretly delighted to see the perceptible blush dusting Aziraphale’s cheekbones when he drew back. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the show,” he managed to say with a smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! :-) In the next chapter we'll see how Aziraphale feels after his experience being hypnotised.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hesitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley asks to see Aziraphale after the show. The next morning, Aziraphale finds something unexpected in his pocket.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley’s show was <em>very</em> good, and Aziraphale had to admit, he’d completely managed to stop thinking about work. He laughed along with Anathema and the rest of the audience as Crowley made eager volunteers quack and waddle like ducks, dodge a storm of raining fish (in reality, scraps of tissue paper released from the ceiling), and break free from a prison cell during the French Revolution, which was actually a cardboard box. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard, although it did leave him wondering what Crowley had made <em>him</em> do at the beginning.</p>
<p>After the show, as soon as Crowley stepped off the stage and disappeared from view, Aziraphale immediately turned to Anathema. “He's very good, isn't he?"</p>
<p>“He sure is,” she smirked. “I knew you’d love it.” She downed the rest of the drink in front of her.</p>
<p>“What did he make me do?”</p>
<p>“It was great, don’t worry!”</p>
<p>“Anathema, please show me,” Aziraphale implored, possibly pouting a little.</p>
<p>“Jesus, ok, I can’t say no to those eyes!” Anathema tapped the screen of her phone a bit and then pushed it across the table. Aziraphale watched as he chased the lovely young man who had introduced Crowley around the stage, ultimately stabbing him in the chest with a pen. Anathema then slid her phone back towards herself and stopped the video. It was a strange sensation, watching himself do something he couldn’t remember. Aziraphale was generally rather reserved, but he found that he didn’t mind it. It actually looked like the most fun he’d had for a long time.</p>
<p>“You were <em>angel</em> Aziraphale smiting the archangel fucking Gabriel for being a complete and total dick. Crowley was asking about work so I told him about Gabriel and it kinda followed on from there.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Aziraphale smiled. He felt different, as though he might be capable of standing up to Gabriel after all if he were capable of chasing a poor innocent man he’d only just met around a stage and stabbing him in the chest. He glanced down at the pen on the table. “I smote him with a <em>pen</em>?”</p>
<p>“A flaming sword,” Anathema corrected.</p>
<p>“Oh. Right.” Aziraphale fruitlessly racked his brain for any memory of the events he had just witnessed. He then picked up the pen and deposited it carefully into the pocket of his coat, which was draped across the back of his chair. He wanted to have a souvenir of the experience, even if he couldn’t remember it. What he <em>could</em> remember was being so close to Crowley at the beginning and end of his time on stage, those enchanting eyes, that sweet smile, and the way Aziraphale’s skin had tingled and his knees weakened when Crowley had kissed him on the cheek.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, Aziraphale?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked up to find Eric standing beside their table. He wasn’t sure whether it was just his imagination but he seemed a little wary of him.</p>
<p>“Oh, hello! I am so sorry about all that!” Aziraphale gestured towards the stage.</p>
<p>“Don’t mention it,” Eric laughed. “I’ve been subjected to worse. Crowley set a massive dog on me once. I mean... not an <em>actual</em> dog. You know what I mean. It’s actually how the hair started,” he explained, gesturing to his unique style, “I was meant to be a rabbit... it’s kind of my brand now. Erm... anyway, sorry to bother you, but Crowley was hoping he might have a quick word with you?”</p>
<p>Anathema gasped and tightly clutched Aziraphale’s knee under the table. He huffed and nudged her hand out of the way. “Oh... all right,” he smiled politely, his heart leaping into his throat as he stood up to join Eric, the fluffy moths performing their aerial dance once more in his stomach as he thought about seeing Crowley again.</p>
<p>“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Anathema called after them, and Aziraphale turned back to her and looked at her quizzically.</p>
<p>“And what exactly, dear girl, would <em>that</em> be?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ok, whatever,” Anathema smirked, making a kissy face at him until he shook his head reproachfully and turned back to Eric, who smiled a little nervously and led him through the crowds to a small room just to the side of the bar, which appeared to just be a storage space for furniture, where Crowley was sat waiting for them. Aziraphale’s pulse quickened the moment he saw him. Crowley got up and shook Aziraphale’s hand again before perching on a table that had been pushed up against the wall. Aziraphale squinted at him, trying to ascertain why he might be here.</p>
<p>“Hey, did you enjoy the rest of the show?”</p>
<p>“Yes, it was very good, thank you. Is everything all right? You don’t need to undo some damage you’ve done to my brain, do you?” Aziraphale asked lightly.</p>
<p>Crowley barked out a laugh, and Aziraphale’s gaze was drawn to the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.</p>
<p>“No, of course not! Just wanted to talk to you.”</p>
<p>“About what?”</p>
<p>“Oh...” Crowley’s eyes darted between Aziraphale and Eric, and he made a sort of contemplative sound that consisted almost entirely of consonants. Aziraphale was struck by how different Crowley seemed now that he was off stage. “Well... I don’t know if she told you, but I was chatting to Anathema while you were under, asking what you do for a living and so on...”</p>
<p>“Yes, she mentioned that.”</p>
<p>Crowley visibly swallowed and bobbed his head. “Right, well, from what she said, it sounded like you've had a pretty stressful week.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” Aziraphale furrowed his brow. Nothing particularly bad about this past week sprang to mind. “I can't recall.” He thought over his week at work, the only particularly notable event being when Gabriel had spilled coffee all down his ridiculously expensive shirt before his meeting with the CEO. Aziraphale felt the corners of his lips quirking into a smile at the memory as he suppressed the urge to laugh. Crowley’s eyes flickered, and then he smiled too.</p>
<p>“Ah, well, never mind then. That's good. It's the weekend after all, shouldn't be thinking about work.”</p>
<p>“Right. So you just... wanted to ask me about work?” Aziraphale questioned, still confused about why he was here, trying not to get his hopes up about why Crowley had wanted to see him. He noticed that as well as <em>acting</em> differently, Crowley <em>looked</em> a little different now too. His eyeliner had smudged and his hair, which appeared a deeper shade of red away from the harsh stage lights, was in disarray as if Crowley had been running his hands through it. Aziraphale still found him extremely attractive. Possibly even more so.</p>
<p>“Well... yeah... erm... yeah. Just wanted to make sure you were all right, your boss sounds like a nightmare.”</p>
<p>“He certainly can be, but I’m fine, thank you for your concern.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ‘course.” Crowley’s eyes drifted away from Aziraphale’s, his gaze travelling lower, down towards his stomach. Aziraphale would have liked to have thought that Crowley was appraising him in an <em>appreciative</em> sort of way, but it didn’t really feel like that. “And, I... I just wanted to thank you properly for your help earlier and for being such a good sport. Will you let me buy you a drink?”</p>
<p>“Oh, that's very kind of you but there really is no need, I would hardly say I needed to be a ‘good sport’; Anathema showed me the video. I must say I was slightly concerned that you might make me do something embarrassing, but it actually looked like a lot of fun. Well, not for poor Eric, perhaps,” Aziraphale amended, turning to the young man, who was still stood by the door. “Thank you for the experience.”</p>
<p>“Right, ok. No problem, I understand. If you decide you’d like another drink though, let Eric know and he’ll bring it over to your table.”</p>
<p>“Oh... well, all right. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“My pleasure. It was lovely to meet you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.” Crowley shook his hand again and Eric opened the door. Apparently that was Aziraphale’s cue to leave, although he found himself not wanting to. It did occur to him that when an incredibly attractive man who seems to actually also be a lovely person asks to buy you a drink, you should probably just say <em>yes</em> rather than opting to reflexively politely decline, although Aziraphale doubted Crowley had offered with any intention behind it, he was just being polite too. Aziraphale hesitated at the door for a moment though, questioning himself, trying to find the courage to ask Crowley if he’d meant for them to have a drink <em>together</em>. The moment passed, and once they’d stepped back out into the club, Eric pointed to the bar, and Aziraphale asked him for another glass of the wine he’d been drinking. Eric gave him a thumbs-up and they parted ways, Aziraphale squeezing past the increasingly high-spirited crowd to rejoin Anathema.</p>
<p>“That was quick!” she announced, her expression conveying her disappointment at this revelation.</p>
<p>“He just wanted to thank me.”</p>
<p>“He already thanked you on stage. Are you sure there wasn’t anything else?”</p>
<p>“No, that was all. He did ask me something about work but I think he’d just got the wrong impression from something you said.” At that, Anathema appeared scandalised. “Don’t worry, my dear, it was a simple misunderstanding.”</p>
<p>Eric arrived and placed a glass of wine down in front of Aziraphale, giving him a polite smile before disappearing back into the crowd. “Thank you!” Aziraphale called after him.</p>
<p>“Did Crowley buy you that?” Anathema asked, pointing suspiciously to the wine glass.</p>
<p>“Yes, I told you, he wanted to thank me.”</p>
<p>“Fucking hell, Aziraphale!”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. We’ll talk tomorrow. I need more alcohol.”</p>
<p>Anathema reached over and grabbed the glass, taking a gulp of Aziraphale’s wine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the taxi on the way home, Anathema slumped against Aziraphale’s shoulder, and he was fairly certain she’d fallen asleep. When they reached her flat, he nudged her gently until she showed signs of consciousness and then helped her safely to the door before getting back into the taxi and giving his own address to the driver. Finally alone, Aziraphale let his mind wander, and his thoughts kept drifting back to one topic in particular: Crowley.</p>
<p>He really was absolutely wonderful. He was an incredible performer, Aziraphale couldn’t remember ever seeing a show that had impressed him more, not even those performed by his favourite magicians. He was also quite possibly the most attractive man Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on. An image formed in his mind of himself reaching out to gently move the fabric covering Crowley’s tattoo to one side, grazing the fingertips of his other hand over the letters, Crowley’s palm once again pressed against the small of his back... Aziraphale’s breath caught as he thought about it. Oh, but Crowley wasn’t just <em>physically</em> attractive, he had seemed so completely lovely and caring, even a little shy and unsure of himself when they’d spoken off stage, and Aziraphale couldn’t quite believe how much better he was feeling just from spending such a short time in his company.</p>
<p>Aziraphale kept thinking about Crowley for the rest of the journey home and while he got ready for bed. He was <em>still</em> thinking about Crowley by the time he climbed under the covers, but almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he drifted off into a restful sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the morning, Aziraphale awoke feeling refreshed, relieved to discover he didn’t have even the slightest trace of a hangover. He lay in bed for a little while, enjoying the warmth and cosiness, not feeling any particular urgency to get on with his day, his mind filled with lovely thoughts about Crowley.</p>
<p>Eventually, Aziraphale climbed out of bed, picking up his clothes from yesterday, which he’d draped over the back of a chair. He slid his waistcoat onto a hanger, and then reached into one of the pockets, pulling out a folded napkin. He must have put it in there last night, but he didn’t remember doing it. He placed his waistcoat down on the bed and unfolded the napkin, revealing a telephone number written on it, followed by, ‘Crowley x’. Aziraphale started and dropped the napkin onto his bedroom floor.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why do I have Crowley's telephone number?</em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s heart was racing, and he stared at his reflection in the bedroom mirror as he tried to remember what had happened. He hadn’t been <em>that</em> drunk, had he? No, of course not, he wasn’t even hung-over. He remembered Crowley asking to see him after the show... he remembered Crowley offering to buy him a drink, an offer that Aziraphale had stupidly declined... but nothing else had happened, had it? He’d left the room with Eric and gone back to his table.</p>
<p>A slightly disconcerting thought struck him then. What if it had happened while he was on stage? After all, he had no memory of what Anathema had shown him on the video she’d recorded. He glanced down at his waistcoat, and as the cogs turned in his mind, the possibility seemed more and more likely. Aziraphale bent down to pick up the napkin, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring down at it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why did I even check the pocket? I never keep anything in there besides my pocket watch. Did Crowley tell me to do that? Did he give me his number in front of everyone? Wait a minute, does that even matter? I have Crowley’s telephone number! Does that mean he liked me? Is that even possible? Maybe he did mean for me to actually have a drink <strong>with </strong>him... gosh, I hope so, he was so wonderful... oh goodness... I should call Anathema, she can tell me exactly what happened! Oh, <strong>that’s</strong> what she meant when she said we would ‘talk tomorrow’, no wonder she looked so pleased with herself!</em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale hoped that Anathema had filmed this part of his interaction with Crowley as well. He knew she would be expecting his call, although she <em>always</em> claimed to be expecting his call, fancying herself something of an occultist who, amongst other purported talents, could predict the future. Aziraphale was smiling and wriggling with excited nervousness as he picked up his phone from the bedside table and dialled, eager to discover from Anathema what had actually happened.</p>
<p>"Hello?"</p>
<p>“Ah... hello?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together and his muscles tensed.</p>
<p>“<em>Aziraphale</em>? Oh... wow... erm... hi. Thanks... thanks for calling." It wasn’t Anathema. He had no memory of doing so, but evidently Aziraphale had dialled the number on the napkin, which he now dropped again in shock, his hands trembling slightly.</p>
<p>“Wait... I didn’t...” Aziraphale moved the phone away from his ear and peered down at the screen, looking at the unfamiliar number with confusion. “What did you do to me?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Crowley replied gently.</p>
<p>“Why did I call you?”</p>
<p>“Did you not want to call me?”</p>
<p>“No! I wanted to call Anathema. I don’t even remember dialling your number.”</p>
<p>“Did... Did Anathema not show you what happened after you, you know, <em>vanquished</em> Eric?”</p>
<p>“No, she didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, I gave you my number, as I suppose you know now,” Crowley chuckled, and Aziraphale thought he sounded perhaps a little self-conscious, once again seeming very different from his persona on stage. Aziraphale’s stomach flipped itself upside down in response. <em>Crowley gave me his number. Crowley gave me his number! </em>“I put it in your pocket, but I told you to throw it away and forget about it if you didn’t want it. You were only supposed to call if you really wanted to, if you really liked me,” Crowley murmured softly, and Aziraphale’s stomach did a few <em>more</em> somersaults. He was uncomfortably aware of his own heartbeat, and it was pounding so forcefully he could even hear it thumping in his ear. “So... thank you for liking me,” Crowley added quietly.</p>
<p>"Well, of course I like you, you seem very nice, but I didn’t actually want to call you, I wanted to speak to Anathema.” Aziraphale moved the mouthpiece of the phone away and took a deep breath.</p>
<p>"Hang up now then, if you like,” Crowley suggested, and Aziraphale’s heart ached. He hadn’t meant to make Crowley feel like he didn’t want to talk to him. This was just... unexpected. He would certainly have called Crowley <em>eventually</em>, but this wasn’t the kind of thing Aziraphale just did on a whim. He needed time to <em>prepare</em>, to think about what he wanted to say. “I'm really sorry, angel, I know it was stupid. I didn't mean any harm, I just wasn’t thinking."</p>
<p>"<em>Angel</em>?” Aziraphale questioned, feeling a warm glow at the pet name for a moment before deducing its origin. “Oh yes, the er... <em>smiting</em>.”</p>
<p>“Right. Look, I really am sorry. I knew as soon as I’d done it that I shouldn’t have, I was going to tell you afterwards but I lost my nerve, and I really just thought you’d find it and throw it away.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I see. So you regret it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry, it’s just this bit I do that the audience seem to like. I got carried away.” Aziraphale’s heart sank, and he rubbed his palm against his chest. The idea that Crowley had wanted to give him his phone number had filled Aziraphale with a sense of excitement and joy, and it was now as though an arrow had struck through the heart of those feelings, shattering them into pieces. Crowley <em>regretted</em> it. What did that mean? That at some point after he’d given Aziraphale his number something about him had made him change his mind? Aziraphale swallowed and cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Well, is there anything else I should be aware of? I'm not going to start waddling around like a duck, am I?”</p>
<p>"If you do, you can't blame me,” Crowley laughed, and Aziraphale chuckled mirthlessly.</p>
<p>"Is there anything else, though? I must say I do feel a little different.”</p>
<p>"In what way?"</p>
<p>"I...” Aziraphale began, pausing then, not quite sure how to explain how he was feeling and certainly not wanting to admit to any of the thoughts he’d been having about Crowley. “Well, that doesn’t matter really; I was just wondering whether you did anything else?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I did, but it should be pleasant?” Crowley asked, sounding hopeful. “And it's only until Monday.”</p>
<p>“Monday?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I wanted you to have a nice relaxing weekend and not think about work, that’s what you meant, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, exactly.” Although Aziraphale had been rather preoccupied thinking about Crowley, he had indeed noticed the absence of work in his thoughts. He had already thought Crowley to be the cause of it, just not in this way. It was touching, really, that Crowley had wanted to do something like that for him, but it was also disappointing to know that in two days’ time it would fade. At least now it made sense why Crowley had asked to see him after the show, he just wanted to see if it had worked.</p>
<p>“I hope I haven’t ruined that. I can reverse it, if you want."</p>
<p>"Oh no, no, please don't do that! Thank you. It was very kind of you. I slept very well last night."</p>
<p>"I’m very happy to hear it. I hope you had pleasant dreams.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, I did, thank you. Actually, I...” Aziraphale clutched the phone a little tighter as images of Crowley from his dreams filled his mind. Crowley surely wouldn’t want to know about that, would he? “I don’t suppose you had any influence there as well, did you?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. If Crowley had suggested that he <em>dream</em> about him, that would indicate that he <em>did</em> like him, wouldn’t it? Or would it just have been part of the ‘bit’ Crowley said he did to entertain the audience? Besides, even if he <em>had</em> influenced Aziraphale’s dreams, Crowley probably now regretted that too.</p>
<p>"Nyerrhh... well, <em>yes</em>, but I didn't specify the details.”</p>
<p>"Oh. Well, we had crepes.”</p>
<p>"Sounds nice. We could... I mean... I could take you out for crepes for real if you want,” Crowley offered, and Aziraphale hesitated. Was Crowley <em>asking him out</em>? Aziraphale really wished he’d had more time to think before talking to him, and now he was getting mixed messages and didn’t really know what to say. “To make it up to you, I mean. I really am sorry about all this.” Oh, so that’s all he meant. That made sense.</p>
<p>"There’s no need for that, it’s all right, I really am grateful. I mean it, Crowley, this has been a strange experience but it’s evident that you had no ill intentions. Anyway, I suppose I should just say thank you and get on with enjoying the rest of the weekend while I can."</p>
<p>"Yeah, all right. I’m really sorry, again, but thanks for calling; it was really nice talking to you, and I’m so glad you’re feeling more relaxed. Take care." Aziraphale’s heart fluttered. Crowley sounded sincere. Was Aziraphale misreading this, did Crowley actually like him after all? He should say something. He should definitely say something, just to make sure. “Bye, angel.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>"Oh... right, yes... Goodbye, Crowley."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy new year everyone! :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Justification</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anathema helps Aziraphale to see things more clearly. After a stressful day at work, Aziraphale calls Crowley.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Monday rolled around, the anxiety returned, and although Aziraphale had done quite a good job of evading Gabriel so far this week, by Wednesday, Sandalphon was on his case, criticising the deal Aziraphale had made with a new author, accusing him of behaving too ‘charitably’, suggesting that previously unpublished authors were easy targets to manipulate and that Aziraphale had failed to take advantage of that. It had felt like a punch to the stomach, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but replay the confrontation over and over again in his mind, thinking of all the things he should have said: that the book was exceptional, and the author didn’t deserve to be penalised and taken advantage of just because this was their first work; that every great author was unpublished at some point; that it wasn’t wrong to be supportive of hard-working, creative people who absolutely deserved an opportunity to share their work with the world. Any of those options would have been better than mumbling incoherently and then fighting back the tears back at his desk.</p>
<p>Aziraphale couldn’t switch off at all, and he hated it, knowing he would spend all evening thinking about work, unable even to focus on reading or watching television, and then wake up tomorrow having wasted his evening and having to face it all again. He didn’t want to bring work home with him in his mind, and he missed how he’d felt at the weekend, when he’d actually been able to put it aside to relax and enjoy himself. On Saturday, he’d got out of the flat and visited a book fair, stopped for tea and cake in a quaint little café he’d never visited before, and then cooked himself a lovely meal when he’d got home. He’d spent Sunday in the flat, catching up on chores and making some phone calls to friends and family, before taking a bubble bath and curling up with a book in the early evening, and it had all been absolutely wonderful. He wanted to feel like that again.</p>
<p>Aziraphale had thought about Crowley quite frequently, replaying their interactions in his mind and trying to work things out. Anathema had showed him the full recording on Monday, after he’d talked to her about their telephone conversation. Anathema’s opinion was that Crowley probably didn’t actually regret giving Aziraphale his number, maybe just the way he’d done it. She took great pleasure in squealing, “look how he’s flirting with you!” while she showed him the video, and Aziraphale had been able to feel his cheeks burning. She was right, it <em>did</em> look like that, but Aziraphale had pointed out to Anathema that Crowley had <em>admitted</em> that it was just part of his performance. Anathema had countered that if that were true, Crowley needn’t have written down his real telephone number. Anathema <em>also</em> pointed out that Crowley had bought him a drink, wanted Aziraphale to dream about him, and had offered to take him out for crepes.</p>
<p>“He said that was just to ‘make it up to me’,” Aziraphale had tried to explain, but he knew it was a weak argument, already starting to feel rather foolish. By the end of their telephone conversation he’d already been pretty sure he’d misread Crowley’s intentions, but Aziraphale had never dealt well with being put on the spot, always needing time to think things through, never even having a conversation if he could help it without rehearsing it beforehand in his mind. He wasn’t sure that would ever change, but he wished he could at least have the courage, once he determined something he wanted to say, to actually follow through with it in the moment.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Bye, angel.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Oh, I’m sorry, please wait a moment, Crowley. When you suggested going out for crepes...’</em>
</p>
<p>“You really think he’d offer to take you out if he didn’t want to see you?” Anathema challenged. “There are a lot of other ways to apologise if he really thought it was necessary. From what you’ve said, I think he’s actually a bit shy, he probably finds it hard just to ask you out directly without coming up with some excuse. Like when you said he bought you a drink ‘to thank you’.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale hadn’t been able to suppress the hope that had bloomed in his chest at that moment. Anathema could very well be right, after all, Aziraphale could certainly relate to feeling like that, and from what he'd witnessed of Crowley, that confidence he exuded dematerialised the moment he stepped off the stage. He had been working up the courage to call Crowley ever since, and now, on Wednesday evening, he was sitting staring at his phone, trying to find the nerve to actually do it. At least now he had an excuse. Well, not an excuse, a reason. Well, he’d already had a <em>reason</em>... but at least now he had <em>another</em> reason for calling. Oh, that really was quite a lot like what Anathema had been saying, wasn’t it? Still, it would indeed make things easier. He would be calling because he wanted to ask Crowley for advice.</p>
<p>Aziraphale seized his phone from the table, found Crowley’s number (in his call log from Saturday, not from his contacts; he had seen little point in saving it), and pressed the call button. It took quite a few rings, but Crowley eventually answered.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, hi!” Crowley’s voice sounded bright and happy, as if he was <em>pleased</em> that Aziraphale had called. He’d also, apparently, recognised his number. Did that mean that he’d saved it? Crowley really might actually like him!</p>
<p>“Hello, Crowley. I’m so sorry to bother you.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be! Hi! It’s good to hear from you! I said you could call any time.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes... that’s right, you did. Thank you.” Aziraphale remembered seeing that on the video Anathema had shown him. He’d insisted on watching it multiple times, each time wishing he could remember the sensation of Crowley’s hand sliding that napkin into his pocket, although his skin tingled just at the thought of it.</p>
<p>“What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Well, I...” Aziraphale reminded himself that he should probably get a few pleasantries out of the way before launching into asking for Crowley’s help. “How are you?”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckled, and Aziraphale’s heart swelled in response. “I’m really good, how are you?”</p>
<p>Excellent, that was actually a very useful segue.</p>
<p>“Not so good, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“Work?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Gabriel?”</p>
<p>“No, not this time. One of his colleagues. Technically one of his subordinates, but he likes to act like he has more authority than he does. Anyway, it’s not important, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all that, I just wanted to ask you... I just wanted some advice, really. I’m sorry, is that all right? Oh dear, I feel a little foolish now.” His resolve was crumbling already after only a few words shared between them. He started to wonder if the only reason he’d had the courage to call in the first place was because Crowley had told him he could call at anytime while he was hypnotised.</p>
<p>“Hey, please don’t, it’s ok. How can I help?”</p>
<p>“Well, you were able to make me forget about it at the weekend. I mean, I’m not asking you to do anything! Goodness me, of course not! I’m sorry! I just... I wondered whether you might know of anything<em> I</em> could do to make myself feel more calm like that?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale heard Crowley take a deep breath on the other end of the line. “Actually yeah, maybe.” Crowley paused, and Aziraphale wondered whether he was supposed to say something to encourage him to continue, but after a moment he elaborated. “I used to do this kind of thing professionally many years ago, not done it for ages now, but I used to see clients and do hypnotherapy with them, you know, helping them to stop smoking and stuff, that’s how I got started with all this. I saw some people with anxiety, I think I recorded some stuff for them, relaxation and visualisation exercises, that sort of thing. It won't put you in a trance or anything and the effects won't be as intense as what I did on Friday, but it should help you to relax. I might still have a recording somewhere, if you wanted to try it?"</p>
<p>"Oh... yes, that sounds absolutely marvellous, thank you!" Aziraphale was positively beaming, a warm glow permeating his chest again. Crowley had seemed so caring on Friday; it was no surprise to discover he used to work in a therapeutic industry. Aziraphale wondered what had made him give it up.</p>
<p>"Yeah, no problem. Erm... look, it was a long time ago, it might take me quite a while to find it. I’ll try, but it might not be tonight, sorry."</p>
<p>"Oh no, that's quite all right, I'm very grateful!"</p>
<p>"Text me your email address and I'll send it over if I can find it."</p>
<p>"Thank you so much!"</p>
<p>"My pleasure,” Crowley responded, and Aziraphale thought he could hear him smiling. “Well, I’d better start looking then; hopefully I can get it to you quite quickly.”</p>
<p>“Oh... all right.” Aziraphale was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t have chance to talk to Crowley about anything else right now, his <em>other</em> reason for wanting to call, but it was fine, he could call him again some other time. Crowley had said he could. “Thank you, Crowley, I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this!”</p>
<p>“It’s no problem at all. Take care, angel. I hope you feel better soon.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, I’m sure I will. Goodbye, Crowley.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale <em>already</em> felt much better. Crowley had sounded pleased to hear from him, and now he was going to send him something that he thought would help. Perhaps afterwards, Aziraphale could call to thank him, maybe even <em>invite him out for dinner</em> to thank him.</p>
<p>
  <em>No, this is ridiculous! I should just invite him out to dinner because I <strong>want</strong> to go out for dinner with him!</em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale texted his email address to Crowley, and a couple of hours later, he received a link to download an audio file, with a short message from Crowley.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Sorry it took so long, hope this helps! x</strong>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale hoped that the little kiss on the end, which Crowley had also put after his name on the napkin with his phone number on it, wasn’t just something he added reflexively to all his messages. Aziraphale also <em>seriously</em> hoped that Crowley hadn’t spent the entire time since they’d spoken looking for this recording for him; he would feel terribly guilty if that were so, he hadn’t wanted to be an imposition. No, that couldn’t be the case; Crowley obviously just had other things he needed to attend to in his life, the fact that Aziraphale could have even <em>considered</em> otherwise was preposterous. By now it was nine o’clock, and Aziraphale would need to be up to get ready for work just after six, so he decided to go to bed and listen to the recording there. Hopefully it would help him to relax enough to fall asleep quite quickly.</p>
<p>Once he was tucked up in bed, he pulled the soft band of his sleep headphones over his head and plugged them into his phone, pressing play on the recording before resting his head back on the pillow. Quiet, soothing music began to play, before Crowley’s voice materialised through his headphones, soft and calming, and just as mesmerising as Crowley’s eyes had been.</p>
<p>The start of the recording was like a guided meditation, which took Aziraphale on a walk through a garden that Crowley described as a paradise that existed just for him. Lush, green vegetation, flowers blooming all around, bees buzzing, birds singing in the trees, butterflies flitting between the flowers, and the steady flow of water as it cascaded down a waterfall into a crystal clear pool. Aziraphale followed Crowley’s instructions, visualising himself walking barefoot across the springy grass, past an apple tree laden with ripe, red fruits before sitting on the ground beside the pool of water. Crowley’s deep, soothing voice encouraged him to dip his toes into the pool, to focus on the sound of the waterfall and to breathe deeply.</p>
<p>Crowley then talked through a series of affirmations, phrases like, ‘you are strong’, ‘you are confident’, ‘you are in control’, ‘you feel relaxed’, ‘you stand up for what you believe in’... words that somehow seemed more believable coming from Crowley, delivered authoritatively in a deep, powerful tone that was not intended to be questioned.</p>
<p>Aziraphale didn’t get to find out how the recording ended. The next thing he was aware of was the morning sunrise streaming into his bedroom through the gap in the curtains, and the sound of a woodpigeon calling in the distance, as he awoke a few minutes before his alarm went off.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley might have been a <em>little</em> dishonest when he spoke to Aziraphale on the phone. Or, to put it more accurately, he’d flat-out lied. But lying wasn't always a bad thing, right? Not when it was being done to <em>help</em> someone? Crowley had certainly <em>meant</em> well. Of course, as the aphorism goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and why did Crowley have the feeling he was now sauntering vaguely down it?</p>
<p><em>Most</em> of what Crowley had said was true. He <em>had</em> used to be a licensed hypnotherapist, seeing clients and using a subset of his skills for therapeutic benefit, until he hadn’t been able to handle it anymore and had abandoned it in favour of something more frivolous. He <em>did</em> used to talk his clients through relaxation and visualisation exercises, and he also taught them affirmations that were meant to alter the way they thought about themselves. There was just one tiny detail, a small discrepancy between the truth and what Crowley had actually said to Aziraphale. Crowley had never actually recorded any of them.</p>
<p>Crowley set his phone on the table in front of him and sighed. He really wanted to help, but this did seem like an inordinate amount of effort to go to for someone he barely knew, and deep down he obviously <em>knew</em> it was unreasonable, otherwise he wouldn’t have felt the need to lie about it. He could have just said, “I think I know what will help, I’ll just record you a bespoke relaxation track and send it over to you as soon as humanly possible,” but that would probably have gone down like a lead balloon.</p>
<p>He told himself he was just doing a good deed, helping someone in need who seemed completely lovely and didn’t deserve to be treated like shit at work, and he was probably just getting too involved because he could relate so much to what Aziraphale was going through. That was all true, but in all honesty Crowley hadn’t actually expected Aziraphale to ever call him again after their last conversation, and when he had, it had completely thrown him for a loop. Having apologised for being an idiot, just as he’d planned to do, Crowley had made peace with what he’d done, and vowed not to be so stupid in future. But when Aziraphale had called him <em>again</em>, at first he’d been absolutely thrilled, but then it had set Crowley’s mind thinking, and <em>worrying</em>, again.</p>
<p>After Crowley had scripted and recorded the track and sent it to Aziraphale, he forced himself to confront a very uncomfortable realisation. He’d <em>tried</em> to be careful, to make sure it would be Aziraphale’s choice whether or not to call him on Saturday. He’d told him only to call if he wanted to, if he liked him... but a couple of things had now occurred to Crowley. Firstly, even if Aziraphale <em>did</em> like him, and their most recent conversation suggested that he did, that didn’t mean he would necessarily have wanted to <em>call</em> Crowley on Saturday if Crowley hadn’t planted the suggestion (and, incidentally, his phone number). Secondly, ‘like’ was an extremely broad term. When they’d first spoken on the phone, Aziraphale had said, 'of course I like you', and didn’t seem to think anything of it, possibly just meaning that he liked Crowley as a performer. Crowley remembered that he had told Aziraphale that he would think the show and Crowley himself were wonderful... so he <em>had</em> suggested to Aziraphale that he should like him, so of course he’d ended up calling. Crowley had thought he’d given Aziraphale a choice, but maybe he hadn’t after all. When he realised this, Crowley’s heart sank.</p>
<p>He would fix this. He <em>had</em> to fix this. Crowley was determined to remove any lingering influence he might have had and to find out whether Aziraphale actually liked him, which meant that when Aziraphale inevitably got in touch with him to thank him for the recording, Crowley would actually have to explain to him what had happened, and do everything he could to make it right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Questioning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley tries to remove any influence he's had on Aziraphale.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley took a deep breath and steeled himself before answering his phone when it rang a little after one o’clock on Thursday, the day after he’d sent his recording to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Hey, Aziraphale, how are you doing?” Crowley made an effort to sound at least a little cheerful, but he was drumming his fingers nervously against the sofa cushion as he did so.</p>
<p>“I’m doing much better, thank you! How are you?”</p>
<p>“Fine... yeah, I’m... I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to you last night, it’s just that your recording worked <em>extremely</em> well and I ended up falling asleep!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale sounded happy and relaxed again, and Crowley pressed his hand over his ribs and took another deep breath, trying to settle himself. He’d done a good thing. He’d actually been able to help someone. No matter how this turned out, at least there had been a positive outcome, although he was painfully aware that the ends don’t always justify the means.</p>
<p>“I’m really happy to hear that, a...” Crowley’s jaw clenched and he caught himself before letting the pet name slip, “Aziraphale. That’s great.”</p>
<p>“It was just what I needed; I really can’t thank you enough! I wanted to speak to you this morning but I wasn’t sure what time you would be awake, but I’m on my lunch break now, I’m afraid this is the first opportunity I’ve had to call!” Aziraphale was speaking fast, like he was excited, or nervous, or maybe just <em>happy</em>, Crowley couldn’t be sure.  “Listen, Crowley... I... I’m not quite sure how to say this but I think I need to just come out and say it. I’m afraid I might have been over-thinking things before, it’s a rather frustrating habit of mine, I do apologise. Anyway, what I wanted to say is that... I like you. I really like you. Do you think... would you let me... I mean, would you <em>like</em>... would you like to go out for dinner with me sometime?”</p>
<p>Crowley threw his head back and scrunched his eyes closed, holding the phone away from him for a second. <em>Aziraphale</em>, this sweet, sensitive, gorgeous man, was actually <em>asking him out</em>, and Crowley should be absolutely thrilled, but his mind was filled with doubt.</p>
<p>
  <em>What if you only <strong>think</strong> you like me? </em>
</p>
<p>Crowley took a second to curse himself even more. His work now was supposed to be <em>fun</em>, just meaningless entertainment, not a source of anxiety. How could he have let himself do something so stupid? Would it really have been so unfathomable just to ask Aziraphale for his number after the show like a sensible person? Maybe he would have given it to him, maybe he wouldn’t, but at least Crowley would know where he stood.</p>
<p>“Crowley? It’s all right, you can just say no,” Aziraphale chuckled nervously.</p>
<p>“No, sorry, I mean, not <em>no</em>, I just mean... Aziraphale, something’s been bothering me.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s... look, I’d really like to see you. Actually, are you free tonight?”</p>
<p>“<em>Tonight</em>? Well, yes, I suppose I am!” He sounded happy. He sounded so fucking <em>happy</em>. Crowley really needed to explain himself.</p>
<p>“Is there somewhere we could meet? I need to talk to you about something, something that’s concerning me. Can you see if Anathema’s free too please? It would be better if she were there.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Well, of course, I can ask her.” Aziraphale didn’t sound happy anymore, and Crowley’s heart felt like someone had grabbed hold of it and was gradually squeezing it tighter and tighter.</p>
<p>“Great, thanks, I really appreciate it. I won’t keep you long, I promise. Can I come to you?”</p>
<p>“All right. I live above a bookshop, but the shop closes at five so we can meet there, I’m sure the owner won’t mind. Will you tell me what this is about?”</p>
<p>“It’s a little complicated, but I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Please don’t worry, I’m going to fix it, it’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“All right. Well...” Now he just sounded downright <em>un</em>happy.</p>
<p>“I’m really sorry about this. I’ll see you later, ok?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’ll send you a message with the address. Have a good afternoon, Crowley. Thank you again for the recording.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome. Bye.”</p>
<p>“Goodbye.”</p>
<p>Crowley threw his phone down onto the sofa and hunched forward, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He could tell how nervous Aziraphale had been, how difficult he'd found it to say what he had, and now he was going to go back into work from his lunch break probably feeling like shit, and almost certainly confused. Crowley's stomach was churning. He tried to tell himself it would be ok soon, he would fix it, and just because he <em>might</em> have influenced Aziraphale, it didn’t mean he definitely had, right? At least he was going to get the opportunity to find out, and Crowley just hoped that the outcome of his intervention would be the one he was hoping for.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley stepped up to the front door of the bookshop. It seemed like exactly the kind of place where Aziraphale would live, Crowley was slightly surprised that he didn’t actually work here. He knocked as confidently as he could on the door, and about thirty seconds later he heard the lock turning, and the door opened.</p>
<p>“Oh, hello, Anathema. Nice to see you again.”</p>
<p>Anathema looked him up and down and gave him a curt nod, opening the door wider to let him past. Crowley stepped into the shop, confronted immediately by the comforting smell of old books. The shop was cluttered, but pleasantly so, and from the looks of things seemed to specialise in antique volumes. Crowley’s interest was piqued, he would have quite liked to have had a look around. Perhaps he could come back some other time, maybe when Aziraphale was at work and wouldn’t have to bump into him.</p>
<p>“I have dinner plans with Newt, my boyfriend, so I can’t stay long.”</p>
<p>“This won’t take long. Hi, Aziraphale." Crowley couldn’t help but smile as he glanced at him, standing a little way back in the shop, his hands folded neatly together in front of him. It was so good to see him again, there was just something about him; he exuded such warmth and kindness, and somehow he had managed to get completely under Crowley’s skin. Aziraphale was attractive in quite a literal sense; Crowley felt drawn to him like a magnet.</p>
<p>
  <em>Please still like me.</em>
</p>
<p>“Hello, Crowley. I must say, I’m... <em>we’re</em>... a little confused.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. Can we... is there somewhere we can sit down?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded and disappeared between the bookshelves, and Anathema stared pointedly at Crowley until he followed. He found himself in a small backroom, Aziraphale sitting down in an armchair with his hands still clasped together. Crowley took a seat on the sofa opposite, and when Anathema joined them she sat beside him.</p>
<p>“Firstly, I wanted to sincerely apologise for giving you my number the way I did. I should have just done it afterwards. If you actually wanted it, I mean.”</p>
<p>“You’ve already apologised to me for that, Crowley, but I must say it didn’t bother me.  I was more concerned when you said you regretted it.”</p>
<p>Crowley internally cursed himself again and rushed to put things right. “Oh, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean I regretted actually doing it! I just regretted <em>how</em> I did it!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale and Anathema looked at each other, and Anathema raised her eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Thank you for telling me. Was there something else?”</p>
<p>“Have you seen the whole recording?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I showed him,” Anathema interjected.</p>
<p>“I hoped it was ok, because I said for you to only call me if you wanted to, if you liked me.”</p>
<p>“I did want to. I <em>do</em> like you, I told you that earlier. Crowley, what’s all this about?”</p>
<p>“It occurred to me that some of the other things I said to you might have influenced you to like me. You might not <em>actually</em> like me.”</p>
<p>“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Aziraphale questioned, his voice low and steady. Aziraphale and Anathema exchanged another glance that told Crowley that no matter what it was they’d <em>thought</em> he was going to say, that wasn’t it.</p>
<p>“Well... yeah.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s hands relaxed a little but he still kept them folded over each other in his lap. He leaned forward, still looking at Anathema, who discreetly nodded her head. Crowley had no idea what that was supposed to signal, but Aziraphale sighed and looked down at his hands.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you need to be concerned about that, Crowley. I like you very much. I do think I would be able to tell if that was due to some kind of unconscious influence.”</p>
<p>“I made you stab my completely innocent, long-suffering assistant with a pen.”</p>
<p>“That’s different,” Aziraphale huffed softly. “You gave me specific instructions to do that.”</p>
<p>“Please let me fix it.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Crowley rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, wanting to be closer to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“I can hypnotise you again and remove any influence I had on you. Please let me do this.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale parted his lips and just looked at him for a second, then turned once more to Anathema. They seemed capable of communicating telepathically, but their expressions were unreadable, leaving Crowley feeling even more unsettled.</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose that can’t do any harm,” Aziraphale finally said.</p>
<p>Crowley let out a long breath and smiled with relief. He would fix this, and then no more doing stupid things. <em>No more doing stupid things!</em></p>
<p>Anathema stood up from the sofa and wrapped her arm around Aziraphale, giving him a half-hug as he made his way across the room. They swapped places, Aziraphale sitting down primly beside Crowley, his palms resting lightly on his thighs.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m ready.”</p>
<p>Crowley instructed Aziraphale to close his eyes and then gently touched his shoulder. He could feel Aziraphale’s warmth through the fabric of his shirt, and tried very hard not to think about it too much. He talked Aziraphale through an exercise to get him to focus, gradually leading him into a hypnotic trance. Aziraphale slumped back against the sofa and Crowley closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing Aziraphale's shoulder.</p>
<p>“Do you have your phone with you?” Crowley asked Anathema. “It’s probably easiest if we play him the recording, that way I can’t miss anything.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I have it.” Anathema got up and fetched her bag, loaded up the video and put her phone down beside Crowley.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Crowley touched Aziraphale on the shoulder again. “Aziraphale, in a moment you’re going to listen to a recording of your time on stage with me last Friday. Afterwards, when I count to three, any influence I had on you while you were hypnotised on Friday, and the effects of any suggestions I made that you hear during the recording, will be gone, and you will be completely back to normal. As you listen to the recording, each of the suggestions you hear will be undone.”</p>
<p>Crowley pressed the play button, and didn’t know where to look as the video started. He didn’t want to watch it back, to see from an outsider’s perspective what a fool he’d made of himself, but he also didn’t want to look at Anathema, who was scrutinising him like she could see <em>into</em> him and knew things about him that he didn’t even know himself. He <em>wanted</em> to look at Aziraphale, who once again appeared so incredibly peaceful, but unfortunately that wouldn’t have been very appropriate. Crowley decided to just point his eyes at Anathema’s phone, staring through it until his vision went blurry, but he couldn’t avoid listening to what had happened, and the sound of his own voice made him cringe.</p>
<p>When Crowley heard himself bring Aziraphale out of his trance on the video, he re-focused and stopped the recording, leaning forward and reaching out to hand Anathema’s phone back to her. He took a second to look at Aziraphale, wondering what would happen when he opened his eyes. Most likely a moment of awkwardness promptly followed by a request for him to leave.</p>
<p>“You really like him, don’t you?” Anathema asked, the harsh expression she'd reserved for him since he’d arrived actually softening a little.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I do,” Crowley sighed, still looking at Aziraphale resting peacefully. “Did he tell you he asked me out?”</p>
<p>“He did. And that you turned him down for... <em>this</em>.” She waved her hand towards Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“You think I’m being ridiculous?”</p>
<p>“Probably.”</p>
<p>“You know, when <em>I </em>asked <em>him</em> out, he turned me down too.”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe you’re both just idiots.”</p>
<p>“Great, thanks.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome. I understand why you felt the need to do it though. Now, are you actually ever going to wake him up? I have a dinner to get to.”</p>
<p>Anathema raised her eyebrows expectantly, and Crowley nodded, turning back to Aziraphale and placing his hand on his shoulder. “Ok, Aziraphale, when I count to three you will be fully wide awake. One, two, three.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and blinked a few times, then lifted himself into a more upright posture. Crowley retracted his arm and shuffled away slightly, suddenly far too aware of his heart thumping forcefully against his sternum. Aziraphale turned towards him, studying him, and Crowley took a deep breath and cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Hi, erm... welcome back.” <em>Oh for fuck’s sake, please try not to sound like an idiot.</em> “So, well... that’s... er... done. Thank you, Aziraphale, I really appreciate you letting me do that, and Anathema, of course, thank you, I hope you understand why I wanted you to be here.”</p>
<p>“I do,” she replied lightly, <em>knowingly</em>, and the twisting Crowley was experiencing in his stomach intensified. “I have to go now though; Newt will be waiting for me.” She rose from the armchair and Aziraphale stood up to join her. They shared a brief hug, with Anathema eyeing Crowley up over Aziraphale’s shoulder. It was very unsettling. “See you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course. Mind how you go.”</p>
<p>Crowley watched as Anathema breezed out of the shop, then looked up imploringly at Aziraphale, wondering whether he would choose to sit back beside him or return to his original position in the armchair. He did neither, choosing instead to stay standing, which Crowley took as an unspoken signal that he wanted him to leave.</p>
<p>“Well, thanks for letting me do that, and sorry, again, for making it so that I <em>needed</em> to do that,” Crowley said as he stood, maintaining some distance from Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“No, no, that’s all right. Thank you for doing it. I appreciate it.”</p>
<p>“Do you feel different?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose I do. For one thing, that image of Gabriel spilling coffee down his shirt... before, it felt like a memory, now I’m afraid it simply feels more like something I imagined.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, I could come to your office and throw coffee over him if you like. Could even make it look like an accident, bump into him in the lift or something.” God, he was rambling. <em>Calm down, at least it’s sorted out now! </em>Aziraphale gave him a small, uncertain smile, so different from the beaming one he’d given him when he had emerged from his hypnotic trance on stage, and Crowley deflated even more. “Anything else?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It feels very strange.”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah, of course. I really am very sorry." Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who still seemed to be studying him, and squirmed uncomfortably. When Aziraphale didn't say anything, Crowley decided it was probably best to just excuse himself. "Well, I guess I’ll leave you to...”</p>
<p>Crowley’s breath caught when Aziraphale took a few steps towards him, closing the distance between them. He paused for a moment before wrapping his arms around Crowley and pulling him into a hug. Crowley froze, his head spinning as he adjusted to the sensation of Aziraphale’s soft, warm body pressed up against him. This was a good sign, right? Or did it mean <em>goodbye</em>? Crowley brought his hands up to rest lightly on Aziraphale’s back, expecting him to withdraw soon after, but instead, Aziraphale ran his hand up to Crowley’s shoulder blade and gently encouraged him even closer.</p>
<p>“I still like you,” he murmured softly, his lips grazing the shell of Crowley’s ear, sending a shiver skittering down Crowley's spine. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale more tightly as a wave of relief washed over him. After a few seconds, Aziraphale pulled back from their hug but stayed standing close to Crowley. He was smiling, and that twinkle was back in his eyes. “But I do think I’d rather got it into my head that your show was the best performance I had ever seen. I’m afraid I’m no longer sure that’s true. Not that it wasn’t excellent, but I have an interest in magic, you see, and I’ve seen some of the greatest magicians alive perform at the West End, and I think, for one thing, their budgets might have been slightly more substantial?”</p>
<p>Crowley laughed openly then, completely overwhelmed with relief, and Aziraphale gave him a beaming smile in return. He’d fixed it, and Aziraphale still liked him. He <em>liked</em> him! It even sounded like he might be <em>teasing</em> him.</p>
<p>“Nothing wrong with tissue paper and pens and cardboard boxes; a great performer doesn’t need flashy expensive things to put on a good show.”</p>
<p>“Quite true,” Aziraphale smiled. “So... what would you like to do now? My offer from earlier still stands, if you’re interested.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Crowley was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it, nor did he want to. Aziraphale <em>liked</em> him.</p>
<p>“Certainly. What would you say to some crepes?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wahoo! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Intention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time for crepes!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley was experiencing the kind of buzz he normally only got on stage, a nervous, excited energy that he would ordinarily channel into delivering a lively performance. But he didn’t want to <em>perform</em> right now, he just wanted to be himself, and already, not long into their date, Crowley was feeling that ‘himself’ might indeed be enough for Aziraphale.</p>
<p>They were sitting together in a quiet little French restaurant, a small candle on the table flickering between them. Aziraphale’s eyes had lit up when he’d first started perusing the menu, and Crowley had become distracted looking at him, paying no attention at all to his own menu in front of him. When Aziraphale had suddenly glanced up and asked him what he liked the look of, Crowley had found himself quite flustered, but was thrilled to see the way Aziraphale started nibbling on his lower lip in response, a blush settling over his cheekbones as he directed his own attention back to the task of choosing from the wide range of delicious-sounding options.</p>
<p>Now, they were enjoying the best crepes Crowley had ever tasted (he could see why Aziraphale had wanted to bring him to this place), and the conversation was flowing easily, helping Crowley to relax, at least a little bit.</p>
<p>“So, you said you used to practise hypnotherapy,” Aziraphale asked him after he finished another mouthful of crepes with a satisfied hum, “and from what I heard last night, I suspect you were very good at it. What made you decide to change direction?”</p>
<p>“Quite a few things, to be honest. Maybe I was expecting too much of myself, I don’t know, but I’m not sure how much I really helped people. Certainly not as much as I wanted to.”</p>
<p>“Well, you certainly helped <em>me</em> last night.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, angel,” Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale managed to hold his gaze for a second before he looked back down at the table, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. It seemed like something he did unconsciously to occupy himself, suggesting that he was feeling nervous too. “It was just too much for me. I worked at this private clinic, lots of targets, pressure to keep people coming back, you know, do a good job but not <em>too</em> good so they wouldn’t feel like they didn’t need us anymore. My boss didn’t like the way I did things, they made my life a living hell.”</p>
<p>“That sounds familiar.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Crowley grimaced sympathetically. “Actually, I used to call them Beelzebub.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale laughed and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Oh my, perhaps we ought to introduce them to Gabriel?”</p>
<p>Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale blushed again and dipped his head, taking another sip of his wine. Crowley started to wonder whether this wasn’t something Aziraphale was doing when he felt <em>nervous</em>, but maybe something he did as a distraction when he felt <em>excited</em>. For his part, Crowley felt like he was glowing, the sights and sounds of the restaurant around them blurring into the background as he focused only on the captivating man sitting across from him.</p>
<p>“Do you ever consider going back to it? You could work independently, perhaps?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so. Even without all the bullshit from my colleagues, I was finding it hard. I met quite a few people who were really struggling and I used to absorb too much of it. I wanted to do more, but I couldn’t. I always want to fix things. I guess I find it hard not to be in control.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s gaze flicked down to Crowley’s chest, and Crowley straightened up and rolled his shoulders back, in such a way that he really hoped wasn’t too obvious.</p>
<p>“I understand; that must have been very difficult for you. I did assume you still entertained the idea, since you kept that recording.”</p>
<p>“Ngk.” Crowley gritted his teeth. “Look, I’m sorry, I need to tell you something. I wasn’t completely honest with you about that, but it was only because I wanted to help and I didn’t want you to feel weird about it. I recorded that for <em>you</em>, last night.” Aziraphale’s expression conveyed his surprise, and Crowley started fidgeting with his napkin to give his own hands something to do. “I’m so sorry, I just really wanted to help.”</p>
<p>“That’s... that’s very kind of you.” Silence descended between them for a brief moment, and Crowley was relieved that the restaurant was fancy enough to have real cloth napkins instead of paper ones, otherwise the one in his lap would have been torn to shreds by now. “I don’t really know what to say,” Aziraphale continued, and Crowley forced himself to look up at him. “You certainly shouldn’t apologise. I’m extremely grateful. If you’d told me, I never would have let you go to that much trouble just for me.”</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t think you would. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t apologise. You did a very lovely, very generous thing.”</p>
<p>Crowley had no hope of controlling the grin that spread over his face in response to that. He released his napkin in favour of discreetly pressing his forearm against his stomach to try to suppress the fluttery feeling he was experiencing. Aziraphale presumably had no idea what that gentle, sincere tone of voice did to Crowley. He cleared his throat and allowed his hands to resume trying to tear apart the cloth napkin.</p>
<p>“I guess I just know how it feels to feel that way about work. Maybe I miss trying to help people a bit, I don’t know. Felt like you deserved it. Anathema said you were really nice.”</p>
<p>“Well, she’s possibly a little biased, she is my friend, after all.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know, I get the impression she wouldn’t be afraid to speak the truth.”</p>
<p>“No, indeed, you are quite right about that. Anyway, thank you, Crowley. I do think that’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.”</p>
<p>“So... you don’t think it’s weird?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think many people would have done that for someone they didn’t know very well, but no, I do think you’re extremely generous. And you were concerned that I might not like you...” Aziraphale said disbelievingly, with a shake of his head.</p>
<p>“Technically, that’s not exactly what I said,” Crowley defended, feeling more than a little flustered from the onslaught of praise. He released the napkin, which he had now twisted into something that resembled how his stomach was currently feeling, and rested one hand on the table, slouching back into his chair in an attempt to look... <em>What?</em> <em>Cool?  Ugh.</em></p>
<p>Aziraphale hummed in agreement and smiled, “I know.” There was that <em>tone</em> again.</p>
<p>“So, you asked me why I left my hell job, let me ask you... why haven’t you left yours?” Aziraphale sighed and adjusted the position of the bowl of sugar cubes near the centre of the table. Crowley’s hand instinctively creeped a little bit forward to be closer to Aziraphale’s as he did so.</p>
<p>“I can’t leave, Crowley, there isn’t anywhere to go. Besides, I don’t think running away is the answer. I enjoy my work, and I know I do good and actually make a difference in my own small way. It’s just...”</p>
<p>“Gabriel?”</p>
<p>“Amongst others, yes. I just need to find a way to handle it better, then <em>maybe</em> work up to being a little bit more assertive, standing up for what I believe in, especially when I <em>know</em> I’m right. You’ve already given me something to help me feel calmer about it, though. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“It was my pleasure.”</p>
<p>“So you actually recorded that with me in mind...” Aziraphale began, and Crowley shrugged for want of a better response, feeling a little self-conscious. “What made you choose a garden?”</p>
<p>“I was thinking of the Garden of Eden, you know, for <em>Aziraphale</em>.”</p>
<p>“Oh yes, Anathema told me you recognised the origin of my name.”</p>
<p>“Mmhmm. A powerful and graceful angel. Seems fitting,” Crowley observed sincerely, <em>attempting</em> to flirt.</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know about that,” Aziraphale chuckled breathily, now taking a great deal of interest in his own napkin. Crowley scooted his hand a little further across the table towards him.</p>
<p>“I love gardens, always have. Obviously can’t afford to live anywhere in London that actually <em>has</em> a garden, but I rent a tiny little allotment. Spending time there always helps me relax.”</p>
<p>“That sounds wonderful.”</p>
<p>“Helps keep me out of trouble,” Crowley winked, then questioned himself for winking, but it seemed to have been well-received. Aziraphale’s soft cheeks rounded as he smiled, his hand once again reaching out to adjust the sugar bowl, bringing it very close to Crowley’s.</p>
<p>“Well, it was very effective, thank you. I did feel different at work this morning.”</p>
<p>“In what way?”</p>
<p>“Just more settled, I suppose, as though perhaps those things you said could be true. You really are very good at what you do.” Crowley’s heart fluttered a little as Aziraphale continued to praise him.</p>
<p>“You don’t need <em>me</em> to tell you those things, though. You just need to believe in yourself.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think it works that way.”</p>
<p>“Of course it does! You can control more that you think! Like, if you wanted to, right now, you could pick up this teaspoon,” Crowley tapped the handle of the teaspoon in the bowl of sugar cubes, their hands now unbearably close, “run around this place, and plunge it into some random person’s chest, shouting, ‘I smite you foul demon’!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled, and Crowley felt warmth spread throughout his chest. He wanted nothing more than to keep making Aziraphale smile. He kept his finger resting on the spoon in the sugar bowl, thrilled that Aziraphale didn’t withdraw his hand despite their proximity. They were so close to touching that Crowley could feel his skin pulsing. “You know full well that I couldn’t do that, not unless you hypnotised me again.”</p>
<p>“You <em>wouldn’t</em>, but you <em>could</em> though. Technically, you <em>are</em> <em>capable</em> of doing it, you’re just not going to because in this setting it would be entirely inappropriate, so you would restrain yourself. Also, I’m not quite sure what it would achieve, except maybe getting us banned from this place.”</p>
<p>“Oh no! We can’t have that. Wherever would I come for crepes?”</p>
<p>“Right. Well, my <em>point</em> is, a lot of what we think we <em>can’t</em> do we actually <em>could</em> do, <em>technically</em>, we just choose not to, for all sorts of reasons. Hypnosis just encourages people to bypass those reasons, breaks away the restraint. You have more power than you think you do.”</p>
<p>“Anathema says that too.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“Yes, she’s a practising witch.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t entirely surprise me,” Crowley smirked. That possibly explained the way Anathema had looked at him earlier. Hopefully it meant she had just been examining his aura or something, rather than, as Crowley had feared, trying to work out where he was most vulnerable in case she ever needed to come after him. “Well, from what I understand of it, intention-setting in witchcraft can follow the same sort of principle.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t work that way for me, I’m afraid. I <em>want</em> to stand up to Gabriel and Sandalphon, but I <em>can’t</em>.”</p>
<p>“You <em>could</em>.”</p>
<p>“Apparently not. Believe me, I’ve tried.”</p>
<p>“Hear me out. You know about the placebo effect, right? Did you know that there’s still an effect, not as strong, granted, but it still works, even if the person <em>knows</em> that what they’re taking is a placebo?”</p>
<p>“I don’t see how that would work.”</p>
<p>“Well, it does,” Crowley shrugged again. “The very act of thinking about taking action to improve something for yourself is enough to provoke some kind of change. If you want it, you can make it happen. You just have to believe it.”</p>
<p>“Now you really do sound like Anathema,” Aziraphale smiled.</p>
<p>“Look, obviously you’re not going to stab someone in here with a teaspoon, and you shouldn’t, and you <em>know</em> you shouldn’t, but sometimes we stop ourselves from doing things we <em>could</em> do that we also believe we <em>should</em> do, just because we lack the confidence.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know that feeling well.”</p>
<p>“But if <em>I</em> can say something that can make you do something, that means that <em>you</em> could say something to yourself that would make you do it too. Trust me. I know it’s easier to believe in someone else than yourself, but you really can do anything you want. I’ll prove it to you. How about... drop this teaspoon on the floor? Just nudge it off the table with your elbow?” Crowley tempted, now stroking his fingertip up and down the handle of said teaspoon.</p>
<p>“But that’s not something I <em>want</em> to do! It would make a terribly disruptive noise, that’s hardly fair on these people trying to enjoy their dinner! Furthermore, we wouldn’t have a clean teaspoon for the sugar cubes if we order coffee after.”</p>
<p>“You want to get coffee?” Crowley asked hopefully.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m certainly in no hurry for our evening to end,” Aziraphale said quietly, taking another bite of his crepes, his left hand still resting close to Crowley’s on the table. Crowley had finished his own crepes a little while ago, and was enjoying watching Aziraphale eat, especially the delighted sounds he made each time another mouthful landed on his tongue.</p>
<p>“Neither am I,” Crowley responded just as softly, bravely twitching his little finger so that, for the briefest moment, it made contact with Aziraphale’s hand. His heart quickened. “But they’ll presumably bring us teaspoons with the coffee, so you shouldn’t let that stop you.” Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously as he swallowed his mouthful of crepes.</p>
<p>“There was me thinking you wanted to help me to speak up for myself at work, and really all you want to do is tempt me into committing acts of mischief. You’re a bad influence,” Aziraphale teased.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I want to tempt you into.” Crowley feigned innocence and watched Aziraphale’s reaction to try to deduce how he’d interpreted his words, the fluttering in his stomach becoming considerably more intense. Aziraphale’s hand twitched on the table as he took a deep breath. “Well, if you don’t want to throw cutlery around, what <em>do</em> you want to do?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale was nibbling his lower lip as he looked at Crowley, evidently thinking this over. Then he lifted his finger ever so slightly, bringing it into contact with Crowley’s, which was still touching the teaspoon in the sugar bowl. Crowley’s eyes widened as he watched, while Aziraphale slowly prised Crowley’s finger away from the spoon and brought their hands together, squeezing gently. Crowley stared down at their joined hands like he was captivated, and squeezed gently in return, wanting to encourage Aziraphale and demonstrate his approval.</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re right,” Aziraphale murmured softly, a contemplative smile on his face. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad you did,” Crowley smiled fondly, savouring the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand entwined with his own. They sat like that while Aziraphale finished the last of his crepes, letting out another delighted hum of satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Mmm. That was scrumptious.”</p>
<p>“As good as the dream you had?”</p>
<p>“Oh, the real thing is <em>much</em> better.” Crowley preened, hoping Aziraphale was talking about more than just the crepes. “Were you really hoping I would dream about you?” Aziraphale asked coyly, stroking his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand, making Crowley’s breath catch for a second.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>absolutely</em>,” he drawled, and the way Aziraphale’s own breathing hitched sent a thrill shiver down his spine. Crowley experienced a rush of excitement and reciprocated Aziraphale’s action, tenderly brushing his own thumb across the back of Aziraphale’s fingers. “Is that all right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale replied, his voice a bit croaky. He cleared his throat, and Crowley’s heart quickened even more.</p>
<p>“I hope<em> I</em> get to dream about <em>you</em> sometime,” Crowley said bravely, encouraged by the way Aziraphale was responding to him.</p>
<p>“I would influence you to do so, if I could.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? You want me to dream about you?”</p>
<p>Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s eyes darted around the table, searching for something to fiddle with now that his right hand was no longer occupied with his fork. He settled on his empty wine glass, gently twirling it around by its stem. Crowley smiled at him warmly.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe if I think about you just before I go to sleep,” Crowley murmured, keeping his voice to a low rumble. He could see Aziraphale’s shoulders moving up and down more rapidly now in response. Aziraphale licked his lips, but kept his eyes focused on his wine glass. “Sorry, was that not...?”</p>
<p>“No, no... I like it. Please don’t stop.”</p>
<p>Crowley bit his bottom lip and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand a little tighter. He could feel how rapidly and forcefully his heart was beating, and wondered whether Aziraphale could feel the same. Crowley’s heart felt like it was trying to break free from his chest.</p>
<p>They ordered coffee, and afterwards, still not wanting the evening to end, they decided to take a walk. It was dark, and although they were now into spring, the temperature still dropped suddenly once the sun had gone down. Crowley thought they should probably walk closer together to share body heat, but of course he didn’t suggest such a thing, not wanting to go too fast. Their arms brushed quite frequently as they walked though, making Crowley’s skin tingle even beneath all his layers.</p>
<p>“You look really nice, by the way,” Aziraphale murmured quietly, nudging Crowley gently and holding his position for a moment before restoring the small distance between them. Crowley turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Something I thought as soon as you walked into the bookshop, and should have found the courage to say earlier.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Crowley smiled. “You look really nice too.” He playfully nudged Aziraphale with his elbow in return, and when Aziraphale beamed at him, he decided it was time to practise what he preached, and looped their arms together. They smiled shyly at each other and carried on walking, with no particular destination in mind, content to just enjoy each other’s company.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Crowley saying he finds gardening relaxing is also in honour of radio Crowley, who is talking to himself trying to calm himself down and then puts on Gardeners' Question Time and sounds so content when he says "Perfect". Awww. </p>
<p>One more chapter to go, thank you for reading! :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Alignment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley teaches Aziraphale some techniques to help him stand up to Gabriel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, this chapter is much longer than I intended. I got carried away!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale and Crowley’s second date was on Saturday, and involved lunch rather than dinner, which had been Crowley’s suggestion. Crowley wouldn’t be working until much later, and Aziraphale realised that this plan meant they would have more time available to spend together after they’d eaten, and hoped that Crowley had been thinking the same.</p>
<p>Just like their first date, it was absolutely wonderful, and if the ache in Aziraphale’s jaw was anything to go by, he hardly stopped smiling for the duration. Crowley was smiling a lot too, a soft, genuinely contented smile quite different from the one he gave his audience while he was performing. It made Aziraphale feel special, and it meant a great deal to him that Crowley had been so determined to ensure that Aziraphale’s affection for him was truly genuine, and not due to any kind of influence. Not that Aziraphale himself had ever harboured any such doubts.</p>
<p>After lunch, since it was such a bright and sunny day, Aziraphale asked whether he could see Crowley’s allotment. Crowley readily agreed, although he spent much of the car journey there talking about how April wasn’t really the best time for it since there would be nothing to harvest, almost like he felt self-conscious about it. Aziraphale on the other hand spent most of the car journey discreetly watching Crowley out of the corner of his eye: the way his right hand glided up to the top of the steering wheel as his left grasped the gear stick; the way his leg stretched and flexed as he depressed the clutch; the way he intermittently sang along to the Queen CD he had on, but didn’t seem to notice he was doing it. Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes off him.</p>
<p>When they reached the allotment, Crowley’s body language changed, only slightly, but enough that it was perceptible to Aziraphale, who had been watching him so intently. He rolled his shoulders back and swayed his hips a little more as he walked, which was a little distracting, as he led Aziraphale to a small plot right in the middle of all the allotments.</p>
<p>“It’s not much, but it’s mine,” Crowley grinned, gesturing to the patch. Most of it was bare ground. “Not much happening right now, I’m afraid, but I’ve started a lot of seeds back at my flat that I’ll be able to put in soon, and look, there’s some new growth on raspberries!” Crowley pulled one of the bendy canes towards him, and Aziraphale stepped closer, brushing up against Crowley (entirely unnecessarily) to get a better look. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>“It’s lovely, I can see why you enjoy coming here,” Aziraphale smiled as he glanced around at the other allotments, a few other people working quietly, turning over the ground and pulling up weeds on their own patches. They walked together around the edge of Crowley’s little plot, with Crowley animatedly talking about his plans for the season and pointing out the few things that were already growing: some radishes, rocket and a single leek that he said he was leaving to flower to attract pollinators. One area was marked off with a red rope, and Crowley explained that that was to remind him where he’d planted the potatoes. When Aziraphale looked closely, he could just about see small, dark green leaves poking up through the ground.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s my allotment. Sorry there isn’t more to show you. Do you want to go?”</p>
<p>“I’d rather stay if you don’t mind? It’s nice to be away from all the noise and traffic for a while. Is there anywhere we can sit?”</p>
<p>“Not really... I do have a blanket in the car, I could fetch that?” An image of sitting on a blanket and cuddling up with Crowley formed in Aziraphale’s mind, and he was uncomfortably aware of the way his cheeks heated in response. This was happening far too often in Crowley’s presence. He dipped his head and fiddled with one of the buttons on his coat to try to hide it.</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you, that would be wonderful.”</p>
<p>There was very little space between each allotment, the paths only just about wide enough to navigate a wheelbarrow through, so when Crowley came back, he settled the blanket onto the bare patch of earth next to his raspberry canes. He sat down on it and patted the space beside him, <em>right</em> beside him, and Aziraphale wondered for a moment whether Crowley was trying to indicate for him to sit close, but uncertainty won out and Aziraphale left a gap between them as he settled himself down onto the blanket.</p>
<p>They sat together for a while, long enough for Aziraphale’s leg to fall asleep from the position he was sitting in, just talking and enjoying the nice weather and the opportunity to be outdoors. Aziraphale shuffled around to try to get more comfortable, seizing his chance to discreetly move closer to Crowley. Aziraphale was still over-thinking things, despite Crowley’s encouragement to have more confidence, not to mention his favourable responses every time Aziraphale did anything to demonstrate his affection.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I guess a turned-over veg patch isn’t the most comfortable place to sit.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I just needed to move around a bit.” Aziraphale realised he had missed an opening to say, ‘maybe I just wanted to move closer to you’. He could still say it. That was the point wasn’t it? Realise what you want to say, then say it. Right?</p>
<p>“I should have brought chairs or something.”</p>
<p>“It was my idea to come here.” Aziraphale was realising that although Crowley was apparently very good at inspiring confidence in <em>others</em>, he still seemed to doubt himself rather a lot. Aziraphale might not have been as well-versed on the topic as Crowley evidently was, but he very much hoped he might be able to make Crowley feel at least a little more confident himself. Aziraphale could say something with that effect in mind. He could say something <em>right now</em>. “Besides, if we were sitting on chairs, I wouldn’t be able to do this...”</p>
<p>Aziraphale shuffled even closer and looped his arm around Crowley’s waist. He’d even considered trying to slide it underneath Crowley’s jacket, but that seemed like it would have been taking things a little too far. Or would it? Well, it was too late to change it now. One thing at a time. Aziraphale leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder and gently squeezed his waist.</p>
<p>“You make an excellent point,” Crowley laughed softly, tilting his head to rest against Aziraphale’s for a second, his long hair tickling Aziraphale’s neck. “Thanks, angel. Feels nice.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale worried that sitting on the hard, lumpy ground would be even more uncomfortable for Crowley given his slender build, but if he <em>were</em> uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. He even wrapped his own arm around Aziraphale too, resting his palm on his back like he had when they were on stage together, occasionally smoothing it gently over the fabric of Aziraphale’s coat, making Aziraphale’s heart and lungs start working a little harder.</p>
<p>As he had when they first met, Aziraphale found himself wishing he wasn’t wearing so many layers, so that he could feel the warmth of Crowley’s touch. He considered his options. He could remove his coat, after all, it was a sunny day, not <em>incredibly</em> warm, although <em>Aziraphale’s</em> temperature had risen considerably since Crowley had put his arm around him. Of course, Crowley would need to move his arm in order for Aziraphale to do that, and what if he didn’t put it back? Could Aziraphale <em>ask</em> him to put it back? Should he admit why he was taking his coat off? Would Crowley <em>like</em> that? If he didn’t admit it, and then he shivered, what would Crowley think? In the end, it all became too complicated, and Aziraphale did nothing.</p>
<p>Shortly after one of Crowley’s plot-neighbours arrived and started working, it began to feel a little too strange to be sat together on a blanket in the middle of the allotments, and they decided it was probably time to go.</p>
<p>“Thank you for bringing me here, Crowley. I had a really lovely time.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, me too. Thanks for today, angel.”</p>
<p>Crowley bundled up the blanket and they walked back to the car. Aziraphale really wanted to give Crowley a proper hug, and started picturing what this would look like. When Crowley dropped him off at the bookshop, he almost certainly wouldn’t get out of the car, and there was nothing Aziraphale could say to try to prolong their date, he knew that Crowley had to get ready for the show he was performing tonight. He could try hugging him in the car, but that might not be particularly comfortable, and they wouldn’t be able to be as close. So, there was only one think for it. Just before they reached the car, Aziraphale raised his hand to his side, and Crowley walked into it, stopping abruptly and turning to face him.</p>
<p>“You all right?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale took a deep breath and nodded, then tentatively took a step closer and wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him into a gentle hug. Crowley chuckled softly against Aziraphale’s shoulder, and Aziraphale felt a burst of self-consciousness, his muscles tensing.</p>
<p>“I was just thinking about how much I wanted to do this,” Crowley murmured, close to Aziraphale’s ear. “You beat me to it.” Crowley pushed his hands between them, finding his way underneath Aziraphale’s coat and reaching around to run his hands up and down his back. Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and pressed himself even closer to Crowley, relaxing into the embrace. It felt better than he had imagined, but he still lamented the presence of the layers that remained between them. He was immediately distracted from those thoughts, however, when he felt Crowley’s lips brush lightly against his cheek.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>For their third date, they had plans to go out for dinner again after Aziraphale finished work on Thursday. Aziraphale was staring in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie for what felt like the hundredth time. He leaned in close and studied his eyes. Would he still look like he’d been crying by the time Crowley arrived to pick him up? Would Crowley feel let down because Aziraphale hadn’t managed to do what he’d suggested and actually stand up to Gabriel?</p>
<p>Aziraphale wanted to see Crowley more than anything, and he knew that their date would take his mind off what had happened at work, but what if he was terrible company? Perhaps he should suggest postponing... but Crowley was meant to be here in half an hour, and they’d made plans to eat at a lovely Italian restaurant, and Crowley was working tomorrow, and again on Saturday, <em>and</em> on Sunday... Aziraphale headed for the bathroom and washed his face again, hoping that would help. He tried to keep busy while he waited for Crowley to arrive, making a cup of tea and putting the television on in the background as a distraction until his phone lit up and he swiped to accept the call.</p>
<p>“Hi! I’m by the front door of the bookshop. Ready to go?”</p>
<p>“Yes, absolutely. I’ll be right with you.”</p>
<p>“You all right?”</p>
<p>“Tickety-boo. Just a moment, I’ll be right there.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale ended the call and pushed his phone into his pocket. Crowley had obviously been able to tell there was something wrong. Aziraphale didn’t want to spend all evening talking about his work problems. What if Crowley got bored of him? What if he thought Aziraphale just expected Crowley to make him feel better about everything? He really needed to just put it out of his mind.</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened the front door and stepped out onto the pavement, smiling widely at Crowley, although he wondered whether he unconsciously did something that gave away that the expression was forced when Crowley tilted his head and narrowed his eyes speculatively in response.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Crowley.”</p>
<p>“Hey. What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s nothing.”</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it, I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to hear about it.”</p>
<p>“You’re very kind, but I don’t want to burden you. Shall we go?” Aziraphale said brightly. Well, he was <em>aiming</em> for brightly. He often wished he could be better at masking his feelings.</p>
<p>“We don’t have to go out if you don’t feel up to it,” Crowley suggested, and Aziraphale’s heart sank. Was Crowley trying to say he didn’t want to go out with Aziraphale while he was being like this? “We could stay in, maybe? Order a takeaway? Or I can go and pick something up?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s lips parted but it took a moment before he felt able to respond. Crowley was so incredibly thoughtful and kind, and Aziraphale was trying to fight his instincts to decline that kindness to avoid being a burden, but it wasn’t an easy battle to win.</p>
<p>“Oh... no, that’s all right, I’m sure I’ll feel better if I get out of the flat.”</p>
<p>“We could go to my place instead then, if you like? We can order food and I can show you my collection of houseplants. That way you get to leave the flat and go out without actually having to be... <em>out</em>.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s heart swelled. That was <em>exactly</em> what he wanted, to be able to spend time relaxing with Crowley without having to face the outside world.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just say yes.</em>
</p>
<p>“That sounds perfect. Thank you. Are you sure you don’t mind?”</p>
<p>“’Course not. Come on, you might feel a bit better when you’ve eaten.” Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders as they walked to the car and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and Aziraphale’s eyes pricked with tears again. Crowley was <em>so</em> lovely, why couldn’t he just put work out of his mind and focus on this incredible man who was being so kind to him?</p>
<p>“I feel like I’m letting you down,” Aziraphale said sadly when they climbed into the car.</p>
<p>“What? <em>How</em>?”</p>
<p>“You tried to teach me how to stop these things from happening. How to be in control.”</p>
<p>“You can’t switch off your emotions, angel. Whatever’s happened, even if you acted differently in the moment because you found the courage to do so, you’d still have to process how it made you feel afterwards. Please don’t feel like you’re letting me down. If you want to try some techniques, I’m happy to help you, but you don’t have to, and if you try them and they don’t work for you, that’s fine too. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. If you don’t, that’s ok. I just want you to have a good time tonight.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I might not be very good company.”</p>
<p>“I want to spend time with you however you’re feeling, Aziraphale. You don’t have to ‘be’ anything in particular for me.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale fidgeted with his hands in his lap. He was too distracted to even pay much attention to Crowley’s movements as he was driving. Wondering whether talking about it might actually help to get it out of his head, Aziraphale told Crowley all about what Gabriel and Sandalphon had done, altering the conditions of the deal he’d made with the new author with whom he’d been working behind his back and not even bothering to tell him, resulting in Aziraphale phoning the author with no idea that this had happened, and having to hear firsthand how hurt and disappointed they were. He had attempted to confront Gabriel, but had just been told, ‘it’s not really any of your concern now, is it, sunshine?’ delivered in a lofty, mocking tone and accompanied by a rather painful ‘pat’ on the shoulder.</p>
<p>Crowley listened intently despite his attention being directed towards the road, and Aziraphale felt self-conscious again. Crowley had told him he had a tendency to absorb other people’s problems, even to the extent that it had contributed towards him changing direction with his career. He surely didn’t want to hear about this. Aziraphale wished once again he’d been better at hiding his feelings, or maybe he <em>should</em> just have asked to postpone their date?</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry they did that to you, angel. What can I do to help?”</p>
<p>“You don’t need to do anything, Crowley. Thank you for listening. I’m sorry, I’ll try to put it out of my mind now.”</p>
<p>Crowley pulled the car up and switched off the engine. They both stepped out, Crowley leading the way to his flat. He paused with his key in the door, turning to Aziraphale before he opened it.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to ‘try’ to do anything for my benefit, but if you <em>want</em> to put it out of your mind, I’ll do my best to help distract you.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“If at any point you want to talk about it though, that’s fine too, ok?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Thank you, Crowley.”</p>
<p>“Ok then,” Crowley winked, and Aziraphale tingled all over. “Come and see the best collection of houseplants in the whole of London, not that I’m biased or anything.” He grinned and pushed the door open, welcoming Aziraphale into his flat. Crowley shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on a hanger by the door, and then smiled and reached out to take Aziraphale’s coat from him too. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn to Crowley’s tight shirt, a low v-neck like the one he’d been wearing on the night they met, with that same tantalising glimpse of the tattoo peeking out from underneath it.</p>
<p>Crowley led him into the living room/kitchen, which had large windows opening up onto a balcony, presumably providing lots of light during the daytime for the bountiful collection of houseplants spread around the room. Aziraphale was no expert, but they seemed to be tremendously well cared for, all with lush, glossy green leaves.</p>
<p>“They’re stunning!”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Crowley grinned. “My own little jungle. Did you know surrounding yourself with plants actually reduces the levels of stress hormones in your blood?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know that. I think I’d need an entire rainforest,” Aziraphale joked, and Crowley gestured around him.</p>
<p>“Worked for me.” Aziraphale gave him a small smile, but somewhere in the back of his mind his conversations with the author and with Gabriel were playing relentlessly on a loop. “You still feeling anxious?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Come here.” Crowley held out his hand towards Aziraphale, his palm facing down, which seemed to suggest he was gesturing for Aziraphale to take his hand rather than just using it to beckon him closer. Relatively confident with his interpretation of Crowley’s behaviour, Aziraphale slotted his hand into his, and Crowley squeezed it gently, leading him to the sofa and encouraging him to sit down beside him. Crowley cradled Aziraphale’s hand in both of his own in his lap. “Is this ok?”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Aziraphale berated himself for not giving a more enthusiastic response. Crowley was tenderly holding his hand, smoothing both of his thumbs over the back of it, sparking a warm glow in Aziraphale’s chest. Still, it wasn’t too late to amend it, was it? “I like this, I mean. It’s nice.”</p>
<p>Crowley beamed at him, which made it worth the energy it had taken to be a little bit brave.</p>
<p>“Let me teach you something?”</p>
<p>“Yes, all right.”</p>
<p>“You know when you’re stressed, people tell you to take a few deep breaths? Have you ever thought about why that works?” Crowley spoke to him a deep, soothing tone, rhythmically stroking his hand as he did so.</p>
<p>“I can’t say I have.”</p>
<p>“There are cells in your brain that monitor your breathing,” Crowley continued slowly, removing one of his hands from Aziraphale’s and using it to tenderly stroke his hair, making Aziraphale tingle. “They’re connected to the more primitive parts of your brain, down here.” Crowley slid his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair down to his nape, scratching gently up and down over his hairline. Aziraphale’s heart started beating harder, and those cells were certainly detecting some changes in his breathing right now too as he sighed and leaned back into Crowley’s touch. “These cells don’t know that you can control your breathing consciously, from up here.” Now Crowley was brushing Aziraphale’s hair back away from his forehead, his long, slender fingers carding through his curls, and Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed.</p>
<p>“Mmm.”</p>
<p>“So if you slow down your breathing intentionally, these cells detect it, and report that your breathing is slow to other parts of your body. This is a sign that you’re not in any danger, so these other parts of your body respond appropriately, bringing you more into alignment with that calmer state. You really do have more control than you think you do.”</p>
<p>Whether because of Crowley’s words or the effects of his hand sweeping through his hair, Aziraphale did find himself breathing more slowly and deeply.</p>
<p>“That’s good, just like that...” Crowley encouraged, and Aziraphale’s stomach somersaulted in response to his praise. If Crowley said anything else like that, keeping his breathing slow and deep was going to become extraordinarily challenging. Crowley withdrew his hand from Aziraphale’s hair, and Aziraphale opened his eyes, blinking a few times.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Did it help?”</p>
<p>“Very much.”</p>
<p>“Want to know another one?” Crowley asked, his eyes twinkling, but maybe that was just an effect of the bright spotlights in his living room. Aziraphale nodded. “There are other things that work the same way. With the breathing thing, it’s like parts of your body saying, ‘we’re breathing slowly so we must be ok, there’s no need to activate a stress response’ because they don’t realise you can override your breathing consciously, and there’s something else like that you can do to make yourself feel more <em>confident</em>.”</p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>“When someone’s confident, they tend to stand really upright, have open body language, it kind of shows they feel safe, they don’t think there’s any threat, and the people they’re talking to are allies, as it were. When you’re not feeling confident, it’s the opposite. Your instinct is to draw in, make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. So if you force yourself to put your shoulders back, hold your head high and open up your body more, again, this information is transmitted to other parts of your body that think, ‘we’re standing like this, we must be confident’, and things actually change in your body and brain to bring you into that state of being.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale grimaced, thinking about how everything Crowley was describing was exactly the opposite of the posture he normally adopted, especially when speaking to Gabriel.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you have a go at sprawling out and lounging around on my sofa while I get us some wine?” Crowley suggested with a grin, pushing Aziraphale gently back against the sofa, his hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before he stood up. Aziraphale followed him with his eyes as Crowley sauntered into the small kitchen area. He wondered whether Crowley’s own rather relaxed posture indicated that he felt confident, or was he using this technique, trying to <em>make</em> himself feel that way? Aziraphale leaned back and experimented with spreading his knees further apart, but immediately snapped them back together. He wiggled against the back of the sofa and moved one arm away from his body to place it on the armrest. That was about as good as he felt he could do.</p>
<p>Crowley returned with a glass of wine and nodded approvingly at Aziraphale as he passed it to him. Their fingers brushed together in the transfer, which, on Aziraphale’s part at least, was intentional.</p>
<p>“It’s a start,” Crowley chuckled, looking over Aziraphale’s very slightly more relaxed posture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a few glasses of wine and a delicious pizza, Aziraphale was feeling much more relaxed, his feelings about work now contained to a dull ache deep in his chest that he was trying his best to ignore. He’d started talking to Crowley about what he might actually do about the situation at work, and Crowley had been offering him advice and encouragement.</p>
<p>“Practice on me if you like. Pretend I’m Gabriel. Tell me to fuck off.”</p>
<p>“I would <em>never</em> use that word!” <em>Out loud</em>, Aziraphale thought.</p>
<p>“Fine, then just tell me to get my head out of my arse.”</p>
<p>“Crowley...” Aziraphale admonished, unable to restrain the smile that was desperately trying to assert itself.</p>
<p>“Technically, you could, right? You are capable to saying all of those words. ‘Gabriel, get your fucking head...’ no, wait, ‘Gabriel, get your <em>pretentious</em> head out of your arse so you can actually see where you’re going’. See? You can say anything you want. Go on, tell me to get my head out of my arse.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t want to say that!” Aziraphale scowled playfully at him and Crowley laughed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, fair enough. What <em>do</em> you want to say?”</p>
<p>“To you or to Gabriel?”</p>
<p>“Well now I’m curious...” Crowley drawled, running his fingertips along the inside of Aziraphale’s forearm, making him shiver, “but let’s start with Gabriel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale took a deep breath before launching into it. “I want Gabriel to recognise that I have good reasons for the decisions I make. I want to remind him that we lost a contract before with an author who went on to become <em>extremely</em> successful, because Sandalphon tried to manipulate them into taking an outrageous deal, costing us the chance to work with them in the future. I want to point out the effect something like this could have on our public relations, especially if this author develops a larger platform. I want to remind him that kindness and respect are <em>not</em> signs of weakness.”</p>
<p>“That all sounds very reasonable, and hey, you just did it, you just said it, that proves you can do it, right? And if you firmly decide that you definitely want that to happen, you’ll find yourself saying it to Gabriel too.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think so?”</p>
<p>“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”</p>
<p>“Paradise Lost,” Aziraphale smiled. “Like your tattoo...” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked down to Crowley’s chest. He could still only see a few of the letters, like on the night they had first met, the rest of the tattoo concealed beneath Crowley’s shirt.</p>
<p>“Mmhmm.”</p>
<p>Well, speaking of things Aziraphale wanted to do but hadn’t had the courage...</p>
<p>“May I see it?”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded and then tipped his head down briefly towards his chest, but when he made no move to do anything else, Aziraphale interpreted this as meaning that he should move Crowley’s shirt to one side himself. Aziraphale licked his lips and tentatively reached out, carefully moving the fabric out of the way, ensuring he didn’t actually touch Crowley’s <em>very</em> tempting bare skin. He kept hold of Crowley’s shirt while he reached out with his other hand, hovering his fingertips over the letters.</p>
<p>“You can touch me,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale’s head snapped up to look at him, his breathing once again rapid and shallow. Crowley’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips and he bobbed his head slightly and smiled. Aziraphale drew the corner of his lip into his mouth and focused again on Crowley’s tattoo, pressing his fingertips lightly to his skin and tracing the outline of the letters. Crowley let out a shuddering breath, and Aziraphale flicked his gaze back up to look at him. Crowley’s eyes were closed and he sighed softly. “Feels good, angel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s lips parted and heat began building deep in his abdomen as he watched Crowley enjoying the sensation of his touch. For a moment his brain seemed to shut down, but it quickly switched back on, and he felt the need to say something, wanting to distract himself from how badly he wanted to kiss Crowley. He certainly wasn’t feeling <em>that</em> bold yet.</p>
<p>“Do you really believe this?” he asked softly, gliding his fingertips back and fore over the inked words: <em>Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven</em>. Crowley opened his eyes and straightened up slightly, blinking like he himself was coming out of a trance.</p>
<p>“I like feeling like I’m in control of my own destiny, but to be honest I don’t think it has to be one or the other. I think you can carve out your own little piece of heaven, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“I’d like to think so.”</p>
<p>“You said you like the work you do, right? Then you just need to stick to your principles and tell them to fuck off, or words to that effect,” Crowley chuckled when Aziraphale shook his head with mock reproachfulness. “What’s the worst they can do? ‘Cast you out’? I think that’s extremely unlikely; they probably know they’re onto a good thing. You’d be amazed how people change when you stand up to them and show them they can’t hurt you. They’ll leave you alone.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully and withdrew his hands from Crowley’s chest. He had probably already exceeded the amount of time that was reasonable to be touching him. “I’ll work on it,” he smiled.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll do great. So... that covers what you want to say to Gabriel. What was it you wanted to say to <em>me</em>?” Crowley teased.</p>
<p>“All sorts of things,” Aziraphale replied, dipping his chin and wishing he had something to occupy his hands. He clutched them together in his lap.</p>
<p>“I’m listening.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale took another deep breath. Crowley was right: any words he could say to himself in his mind he could say out loud too, and Crowley was incredible, didn’t he deserve to know that?</p>
<p>“I think you’re wonderful. You’re so lovely and kind, and clever,” Aziraphale gushed, then paused, examining Crowley’s response. He didn’t want to scare the poor man off. Crowley, however, looked delighted, and leaned a little closer to him, a fond smile on his face. “I really enjoy spending time with you.”</p>
<p>“I’m happy to hear it, because I really enjoy spending time with you too. And thank you. I think you’re wonderful too.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale would quite happily have spent many more hours talking to Crowley, but he was forced to accept that getting a late night wouldn’t help him to have a good day at work tomorrow. Crowley called him a taxi, and when it arrived, Crowley walked him to the front door of his flat, but then suddenly turned and rushed back into the living room as if he’d forgotten something.</p>
<p>“Here, take this, for your desk,” Crowley said, holding out one of his smaller houseplants. “You know, for reducing stress hormones. And if all else fails it’s something you can throw at Gabriel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled but hesitated before taking it. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely! But...” Crowley lowered his voice to a whisper and stepped very close. “Don’t let the other plants know. I’m going to tell them I shredded it for poor performance. Keeps them working hard to look their best.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale was far too distracted by the sensation of Crowley’s warm breath on his face to consider whether or not he was joking, but he certainly sounded sincere. Aziraphale took the plant from him and smiled at it fondly. Now he would just have to make sure not to kill it.</p>
<p>“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”</p>
<p>Crowley scrunched his nose and leaned in to give Aziraphale a hug, once again kissing him on the cheek. Aziraphale carefully wrapped his arms around him, holding the plant away slightly and making sure it stayed upright. When they separated, Aziraphale had an image in his mind that he knew he could turn into reality if he could be brave enough to do so.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, angel. I had a really nice time tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yes, me too, thank you.” <em>There’s still time. I could do it.</em> “Goodnight, Crowley.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale reached up and smoothed Crowley’s hair away from his face, and somehow it was even softer and silkier than it looked. Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed, and Aziraphale leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Crowley sighed and stroked his fingertips over the back of Aziraphale's neck, stoking the fire that had started burning in his abdomen earlier. He was really starting to wish there wasn't a taxi waiting for him outside.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>For their fourth date, Crowley and Aziraphale had arranged to meet at the bookshop on Tuesday after Aziraphale finished work and then decide what they wanted to do depending on how he was feeling. Aziraphale was rushing around, somewhat tidying up but generally just moving things about, trying to burn off some of the energy coursing through his bloodstream. He felt <em>fantastic</em>.</p>
<p>As soon as Crowley arrived, Aziraphale hurried to the door and let him in, grabbing hold of his hand and practically dragging him into the shop. He threw his arms around Crowley and pulled him into a tight hug.</p>
<p>“Wow... hi! For the record this is a very nice way to be greeted,” Crowley chuckled, tilting his head to lean it against Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale squeezed him even more tightly, relishing the feeling of their bodies pressed together.</p>
<p>“Crowley, I did it! I actually did it!”</p>
<p>“What did you do?” Crowley asked, pulling back and looking at him, his eyes dancing over Aziraphale’s face. “Wait... did you tell Gabriel to fuck off?”</p>
<p>“Well, I didn’t use the f word, <em>obviously</em>.”</p>
<p>“‘The f word’, brilliant,” Crowley smirked. “Please, do go on.”</p>
<p>“I just said all those things we talked about. I explained the reasons for my approach, and I asserted that I had no intentions of behaving any differently. I kept my head held high, and I even spread my legs a little bit.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’ll do it,” Crowley choked on a laugh. Aziraphale furrowed his brow and then realised what he’d said, bringing his hands up to cover his face.</p>
<p>“Oh, good Lord!”</p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry, I know what you meant,” Crowley laughed and then cleared his throat. “So... erm... what did Gabriel say?”</p>
<p>“He said ok,” Aziraphale said softly, still not quite able to believe what had happened.</p>
<p>“<em>Ok</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes, pretty much. I think he was rather shocked to be honest with you. He said that I made a reasonable argument and that he would take it under advisement, and then later I found out that he had contacted the author I was telling you about and restored our original agreement! Apparently he even ‘apologised for the misunderstanding’.”</p>
<p>“That’s fantastic, angel! I’m really proud of you! I’m glad you’re so happy.”</p>
<p>“I almost feel like I could do anything!” Aziraphale had to restrain himself from hugging Crowley again. He was absolutely buzzing and needed an outlet for all his energy. Tightly squeezing Crowley’s body against his own was a very tempting way to achieve that.</p>
<p>“You can. You absolutely can. We should celebrate! What do you want to do? We can do anything you want.”</p>
<p>“Anything?”</p>
<p>“<em>Anything</em>.” Crowley beamed at him, and Aziraphale let his eyes drift over him. Crowley was <em>outrageously</em> handsome, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off him. <em>Should</em> he be keeping his hands off him? Crowley had said he could touch him, and he’d enjoyed it when Aziraphale had done so on their last date. Aziraphale licked his lips and smiled. “Do you have something in mind, angel?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Great, let’s do it.”</p>
<p>“We can’t do <em>anything</em> I want, Crowley. What if it were something that wasn’t actually possible, like dinner at The Ritz? We couldn’t do that without a reservation.”</p>
<p>“We might be able to! Don’t give up so easily! Want me to make some calls?”</p>
<p>“What kind of <em>calls</em>?” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and looked at him suspiciously. Crowley barked out a laugh.</p>
<p>“I have <em>never</em> used my skills to get me a table at a restaurant!”</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t think you would have,” Aziraphale said fondly. Crowley took his hand and stroked it with his thumb, stepping closer to him again, their breath mingling between them.</p>
<p>“So, is this thing you want to do something you think might not be possible?”</p>
<p>“No, it isn’t, but it involves someone else, so it also depends on what <em>they</em> want,” Aziraphale murmured softly, looking up at Crowley with wide eyes.</p>
<p>“Is that someone else <em>me</em>?” Crowley lowered his voice and stopped stroking Aziraphale’s hand, squeezing it gently instead.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“And do you think I’ll want to do it?”</p>
<p>“Maybe. I hope so. I’m not sure.”</p>
<p>Crowley brought his free hand up to stroke Aziraphale’s hair, then brushed the back of it across his cheek, extending his fingers so that they grazed the sensitive skin beneath Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.</p>
<p>“Does this help?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered, opening his eyes. Crowley had somehow leaned in even closer, tilting his head and smiling softly.</p>
<p>“Anything you want, angel. <em>Anything</em>.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s hair away from his face, threading his fingers through it and holding it out of the way as he tilted his head up and brought their lips together. Crowley responded enthusiastically, releasing Aziraphale’s hand and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him closer, their bodies moulding together as they kissed. Crowley’s hands roved over his back, and Aziraphale moaned softly against his mouth, which made Crowley clutch at the fabric of his waistcoat, somehow pressing them even more tightly together.</p>
<p>They were both panting softly when they finally separated from one another, and Crowley was smiling widely. “That was <em>incredible</em>,” he breathed, swallowing thickly. “We can definitely do that anytime you want.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that.” Already Aziraphale felt compelled to close the distance between them once again, so he stepped forward and pulled Crowley into a tender embrace. “Thank you so much for believing in me.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you were able to believe in yourself.” Crowley turned his head and kissed him on the cheek, not just once, but he planted a whole series of feather-light kisses along his cheekbone, moving down towards his jaw. Aziraphale tilted his head back and sighed contentedly.</p>
<p>“I was only able to do that because <em>you</em> did, and I believe in <em>you</em>. Do you know, I take back what I said before; I think you might actually be a <em>good</em> influence.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know about <em>that</em>,” Crowley drawled, planting an open-mouthed kiss on Aziraphale’s neck, making him gasp, as his hands travelled down the length of Aziraphale’s back and came to rest on his hips. “Maybe we could stay in tonight?” Crowley’s hot breath in his ear sent a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine, and he ran his hands up into Crowley’s hair.</p>
<p>“I think you could probably persuade me,” Aziraphale teased, pulling Crowley towards him and capturing his mouth in another kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :-)</p>
<p>Whatever it is you're dreaming of, believe in yourself and make it happen &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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